


It's not the end

by Lakritzwolf



Category: Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake Character Death, First Time, Funeral, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Mankind Divided never happens, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sarif's broadcast changed the story, Wakes & Funerals, idiots to lovers, post-Panchaea AU, ptsd related issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 91,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27979806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: When an old enemy kidnaps Frank Pritchard because of an old grudge and a score he has to settle, he leaves devastation behind. Now everyone believes Frank dead, but despite having attended the funeral, Adam Jensen can not give up. Some things did not add up in the whole case, and he will not rest until he gets to the bottom of this. And while Frank fights for survival in a situation where he cannot call for help, Adam refuses to accept the fact that Pritchard is gone.And when the night is closing inDon't give up and don't give inThis won't last, it's not the endIt's not the endYou're gonna be okay
Relationships: Adam Jensen/Francis Pritchard
Comments: 22
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title song [You’re gonna be okay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0PCblOjOxg) by Jenn Johnson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Another beautiful piece of Art for this chapter by zelu!](https://twitter.com/zeluchan/status/1336865540904611840?s=20)

Thanking his past self – his self from this morning, in fact – that he had listened to the news and not taken his bike to work, Frank sat down in the almost empty subway car and brushed the snow off his shoulders. It wasn’t a snow storm, not just yet, but being on a bike in this kind of weather was a recipe for disaster.

As a side effect, having to rely on public transport actually got him out of the office at a reasonable time. He could either take the subway during late afternoon or early evening like most people, or he would have to wait up to half an hour for the next one if he stayed as late as he so often did.

So, in this case, he left work only an hour after most of the staff had gone home already. His apartment and his own bed had seen a lot more of him these last few days since the weather had turned so foul. It was almost insulting that early March in Detroit could feel like a Siberian December.

Frank stopped in front of the double glass door at the top of the stairs and eyed the low-hanging clouds. It was still snowing but the wind had ebbed off, at least. A brisk walk of less than ten minutes would see him home, instead of waiting longer than that for a bus in this cold.

He popped up the collar of his jacket, pulled the beanie deeper over his ears, and after a deep breath, Frank braved the horrible weather once again.

His face ducked into his collar and the beanie almost in his eyes he marched through the snow that was turning into sleet, and he hurried his steps when the wind picked up speed again.

Which was the reason he bumped into someone as he rounded a corner, just two minutes from his doorstep. He could already see the lights of the neighboring apartments, and this and the fact he was trying to hide his face from the cold had resulted him into running into someone coming into his direction.

“Sorry!” He hurried past because they had only bumped shoulders, and the other person hadn’t even stumbled. But then he was hailed.

“Pritchard? Frank Pritchard?”

Frank stopped, and turned around again. The flashlight of a phone camera blinded him for a second. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Is that him?” the person with the phone asked.

He had an earpiece.

“Fuck.” Frank spun around, but after only two steps he ran into someone else. Two guys, this time, and he was grabbed by the shoulders from behind before he could even think of running.

“What do you want?”

“We?” camera guy said. “Nothing. We’re just doing our job.”

The infolink. Frank had reacted too slowly however, because before he could even open his mouth he felt a searing pain at the back of his neck, and his world went black in an instant.

* * *

Adam stared at the door of the Tech Lab with a frown. The door was locked, the lab lay dark and empty. It was so utterly unlike Pritchard not to be at work already, at this hour. But he wasn’t answering his phone.

“Pritchard?” Adam looked around, and tried again. “Pritchard, come in!”

But he didn’t react to the infolink either. So Adam decided to contact Sarif.

“Boss,” he said, already on his way towards the stairs. “Pritchard hasn’t come in yet, has he called in sick?”

 _“No,”_ Sarif replied, sounding as puzzled as Adam felt. _“Do you want to check in on him?”_

“Maybe I should. Something feels off. He doesn’t answer his phone, and his infolink seems to be offline.”

_“Check on him. If he complains, I’ll take the heat.”_

“Roger.”

Adam found it difficult to admit to himself how worried he was, because in all the time they had been working together, Pritchard hadn’t called in sick for one single day. He was a workaholic, constantly on overtime, slept in his office more than in his own bed, and he dreaded nothing more than to be forced away from his computers in fear of the horrible things that might happen in the system without him keeping an eye on everyone’s activity.

Admittedly, the last one wasn’t far off the truth. But there was more than one person at Sarif Industries who could deal with a virus and data recovery.

Adam made his way through Detroit swiftly, taking the subway for a few stops, and otherwise relying on the speed his own body granted him. Sprinting through yards of residential buildings instead of sticking to roads and subway routes saved a lot of time.

He faltered when he rounded the last corner and his eyes fell on two fire trucks and an ambulance. There was no fire in sight, but the walls of the apartment block were stained black with soot around one window on the fourth floor.

Pritchard lived on the fourth floor.

His worries coalesced into something very cold and very heavy in his stomach, and Adam elbowed past a few gawkers towards the door of the building.

A cop stepped in his way. “Do you live here?”

“A… friend of mine does. He didn’t come in to work this morning and I wanted to check on him.”

The cop took a deep breath, his eyes darkening. “The fire broke out in an apartment on the fourth floor, in the bedroom. Fire department put it out, but were too late to save whoever was sleeping in there. Heard them say the poor bastard was burned to the bones.”

Adam felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. “What.” his voice was rough, the words in his throat like shards of ice.

He pushed past the cop, but the cop grabbed him by the elbow. “Oy! Forensics is still up there, you can’t just waltz in!”

Adam tore his arm out of the cop’s grip and sped past him with all the speed his augmentations could grant him. He dashed up the stairs taking three steps in one stride, and raced down the hallway to where Pritchard’s apartment was.

The door was standing wide open, the doorway crossed by yellow tape. Adam ducked under it and looked around.

There was his leather jacket, hanging from the coat hanger. His backpack leaning against the wall below it, his shoes right next to it. Adam looked around, not knowing what he hoped for, but he was not only unwilling but unable to accept that Pritchard could just be gone like that.

He stepped past the entrance to the kitchen, and cast a cautious look inside. He had never been in this apartment, and he hadn’t known what he would have expected, but not something this clean and tidy, for some reason.

“Excuse me, sir, what are you doing here?” A woman in a lab coat wearing latex gloves, who had to be one of the forensic experts, left the bedroom. The walls and door frame behind her were blackened with soot. Paint was peeling off the door and the frame. “You’re not from the DPD, are you?”

Adam took a step towards her, forcefully keeping himself from yelling. “The guy who lives here, where is he?”

“Did you know him?” She looked over her shoulder into the ruins of the bedroom.

“Where is he?!”

“In a bodybag.” The forensic took a small step back. “At this point I guess he should have reached the morgue of the DPD. I’m sorry, sir. But you shouldn’t be here.”

Adam slowly backed away again; he had been able to take a glimpse into the bedroom, and had only seen black walls, and burned furniture. He turned around, but after ducking under the tape again he headed up the stairs instead of down, first in a walk, then in a run. He stumbled through the utility access door onto the roof feeling as if he was about to puke.

“Pritchard…” It started to snow again, just a little, but the wind drove the small snowflakes right into his face. It wasn’t possible...

_“Adam?”_

Adam almost jumped out of his skin. “Boss…”

A moment of silence. Adam wasn’t sure what his voice had been doing, but Sarif’s voice was trembling. _“Adam, what happened?”_

“There was… there was a fire.” Adam shook his head, he still wasn’t able to process all of this. “Forensics said that… the fire department was here but…”

_“Adam. Calm down. Where’s Frank? Is he in the hospital?”_

Adam stared down into the backyard of the building, and it took him a moment until he realised what he was looking at. The large, lumpy item under a black tarp had to be Pritchard’s bike. He felt a strange, cold numbness spread in his body. This wasn’t happening. This could not be happening.

_“Adam!”_

“Boss… Pritchard…” His eyes were burning. It couldn’t be. Not just like this. “He… he didn’t make it out. They said he… he’s dead. He died in that fire, his body is being transferred to the DPD morgue.”

The wind was howling in his ears and tugging at his coat.

“Boss?”

 _“I…”_ A long pause. _“Come back here, Adam.”_ Sarif’s voice was heavy. _“We’ll figure out what to do.”_

But what was there to do? If Pritchard was really gone, what was there that anyone could do about it?

Adam walked towards the edge of the roof with heavy steps, and stared down into the backyard, and at Pritchard’s bike. He would never ride that bike again. Adam would never hear that snarky voice again, not in his ear during a mission, not when he walked into the Tech Lab.

The icy wind burned in his eyes, despite the shades, and Adam spun around again and walked across the roof. Not bothering with any stairs he simply jumped, and encased in the warm tingle of the Icarus he hit the ground without looking back at the door, at the cops, at the fire trucks, and he certainly didn’t look at the empty window surrounded by blackened plaster.

* * *

Darkness. Cold. Suffocating constriction all around him. His head hurt and he couldn’t move.

A part of his brain had the capacity to wonder if this was what it felt like to be buried alive, trapped in a coffin, but before he could panic he heard muffled voices. A blinding light, a searing pain, and Frank’s world went out like a snuffed out candle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I draw heavily from [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27724825) I wrote about Pritchard’s past, especially his time in jail, which turned into some sort of private source fic for myself. You don’t have to read it to understand, but if you’re curious and go there: mind the tags.


	2. Chapter 2

Adam entered the lobby with heavy steps, and he headed up the stairs and towards the elevator forcing himself not to look towards the Tech Lab.

During the ride up towards Sarif’s office he tried not to think, of what it meant, of what was going to happen now. He had no success. His mind was spinning, recoiling from the thought of someone else sitting in the Tech Lab, another voice coming through his infolink, of Pritchard’s things vanishing from his office as if he had never been there. Of another name next to the door.

Sarif just put down his phone as Adam entered his office.

“Adam.” He looked tired and drained.

“Boss.”

“I just called the DPD. They do have the body in the morgue, and they’re in the process of identifying it.”

“I guess there’s no chance it isn’t Pritchard,” Adam said darkly, not meeting his eyes.

“I guess not.” Sarif’s voice was heavy. “It would be weird for someone else to be in his bed. Alone.”

“And forensics?”

“They’re still on site,” Sarif replied. “We don’t know yet what started the fire.”

“That bedroom…” Adam took a deep breath. “Boss, it looked like someone dropped a fire bomb in there.”

“We’ll have to wait for the report. But… Adam, I don’t know what that will change.”

“Nothing.” Adam looked out of the window. “I just want to know what happened.”

“So do I.” Sarif stepped to his side. “But no matter what is in those reports, it won’t change the fact that he’s gone.”

“I still can’t believe it.” Adam kept shaking his head. “I still can’t believe that he’s just… gone. Like that. Just yesterday he complained to me about another idiot downloading malware and…” He angrily wiped the wetness off his cheek. “He can’t just be gone like that.”

Sarif rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. “Trust me, Adam, I don’t want to believe it either.”

They stood side by side for a moment, looking at the rain falling down on Detroit, dissolving the snow in grey, dirty sludge. Eventually Adam broke the silence.

“What happens now? Does his family know yet?”

“As far as I know he hasn’t been in contact with his family for years. I’m going to try and find them. Even if they had a fallout and haven’t been on speaking terms, they should know.”

“The DPD should handle that, shouldn’t they?”

“They should, technically. I just feel…” Sarif huffed out a frustrated sigh. “But then, it doesn’t matter if it’s the police or someone else you don’t know who calls you, and tells you that your son is dead, does it.”

“I don’t think it does.”

Sarif shook his head a few times, and then looked at Adam again. “Take the day off, son. You look a little shaken up.”

“Don’t think it’s going to change if I stare at the walls in my apartment.”

“Your choice,” Sarif replied.

Adam nodded, and left not long after that. He hesitated after stepping out of the elevator, but then decided that staring at his walls was better than staring at the empty Tech Lab, and left the building again.

The rain was pelting down on him and he was soaked to the bones within minutes, his leather coat notwithstanding. He took a hot shower after coming home, but it did nothing to dispel the cold in his bones. He tried to get drunk, but the Sentinel prevented that from happening no matter how fast he poured the Bourbon down his throat. He ended up throwing the bottle against a wall, spent half an hour cleaning up, and proceeded to sit on his sofa surrounded by the stink of slowly dissipating alcohol.

He stared at the walls for the rest of the day, fighting memories with no success.

_“Did you get stuck in an air duct on the way over?”_

_“I suggest you start by going up.”_

_“And Jensen, don’t get yourself killed.”_

_“I think you… you’re on your own, Jensen.”_

You’re on your own.

Pritchard had been honestly pleased and relieved when Adam had managed to drag himself back to Detroit through the fires and ashes left behind by the Incident, but at least Sarif’s suggestion for the broadcast had taken the edge off the aftermath. They had been out for drinks, an evening made awkward by the fact they hadn’t known what to talk about, so they had cut it short.

You’re on your own.

And now Adam discovered he knew next to nothing about Pritchard. What kind of man had he been, besides from what Adam had seen at work? Had he had any hobbies? What books had he read? What music had he listened to? Family, friends, pets… he didn’t know anything.

It was getting dark, but Adam got up, put on his still damp coat, and left the Chiron building again in a fast, purposeful stride. At least it wasn’t raining anymore, and it was fully dark when he reached the building block where Pritchard lived. Used to live. The place was empty, forensics was gone, and Adam hacked the door and ducked under the yellow tape into the apartment.

After switching on the lights, Adam slowly walked through the living room, and looked at the remnants of a life he had known nothing about.

A bookshelf held a vast collection of graphic novels he had never heard of. Mangas, and others, and he pulled one of them out. He had never in his life heard of Inspector Canard, and couldn’t have imagined that it was… a duck. An anthro duck. And it looked rather dark, to judge from what he saw as he flipped through the pages. He put the comic back, and let his eyes sweep across the books.

A few books about coding and several programming languages. Mathematics, physics, computer science, computer engineering. None of it made any sense to him, and he let his fingers trail along the spines of the books. Halfway through the shelf the titles turned into what he assumed was Science Fiction as he continued. The Expanse. The science of Star Trek. 1984. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. That title puzzled him, and he pulled the book out, but decided against opening it before slipping it back.

Science fiction gave way to fantasy, and he stopped at one with a spine so bent and crinkled the title was no longer readable. He pulled it out and looked at it. A paperback, made to look like brown leather with a gold print.

Adam opened the book, looked at a strange, simplified map, and turned a few pages until he found the heading

_Chapter one: An unexpected Party_

_In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat. It was a hobbit hole, and that means comfort._

Adam snapped the book shut, and then he noticed the small note stuck between the pages. He pulled it out and swallowed.

_To Frankie_

_Happy 10th Birthday_

_Love, grandma_

His vision blurring he, gently opened the book and slipped the note back inside, and he equally gently closed it again. He put the book back into the shelf, next to Lord of the Rings and the Silmarilion.

The lowest shelf below the books held a collection of old CDs. AC/DC. Metallica. Motörhead. Slayer. Iron Maiden. Anthrax. Black Sabbath.

The top of the shelf was filled with a row of vinyl figures, each one of them encased in a transparent acrylic box. He recognised a few names, but just like the comics, most of them he had never heard of. Probably collector’s items that were, in certain circles, worth half a fortune.

Next to the bookshelf, a large desk. On it, two ancient computers. A Commodore 64 and an Amiga 500. A box of floppy disks, no doubt containing software or games for these ancient PCs.

On the wall next to the shelf was a large glass tank. But not a fish tank. The terrarium covered half the wall, and contained some plants, some rocks, and a large branch without bark. A heat lamp was installed right above the terrarium, but it was empty.

Adam felt a small smile creep onto his face. Of course, Pritchard would keep a reptile as pet. Probably a snake. He wondered what had happened to it, and decided to investigate, trying not to think about the very real possibility that it had been put down already with its owner dead and gone.

The bedroom was a mess of burned carpet and burned furniture, the bed a hardly recognisable lump of coal and ash. This was where he had died. A body in the bed. Two empty whiskey bottles, blackened and cracked. Fallen asleep while drunk and smoking.

But that was so unlike Pritchard something reared in the back of Adam’s mind. This was wrong. This was so wrong. Something was wrong, a room couldn’t burn this fast without the fire spreading to other rooms.

Accelerators. Gasoline, or something different. This had not just happened.

Maybe he was just becoming unglued by this whole thing, maybe he just wanted Pritchard’s death not to be a stupid accident caused by alcohol.

But in the end, he thought of Sarif’s words. Nothing would change the fact that he was gone. And who would have a motif to murder him? He had been out of blackhat work for eight years.

Hadn’t he?

Adam couldn’t imagine Pritchard still indulging in illegal activities beside work. It just wasn’t possible. But maybe an old enemy. An old grudge.

He would get to the bottom of this. Adam knew that getting justice for Pritchard was solely for his own benefit. It wouldn’t bring Pritchard back. He also knew that clinging to the belief that it had not been a stupid, meaningless accident was also only for his own benefit.

Adam slowly left the apartment again in heavy steps, and found himself picking up the off-white and orange leather jacket without making a conscious decision about it. He had no idea what he would do with it, and if it wouldn’t only make him feel worse in the long run, having it around.

He took it anyway.

* * *

Adam was back at Sarif industries the next day, but had to wait for Sarif to finish a phone call before he entered his office.

“Adam. What can I do for you?”

“Have you heard anything yet from the DPD?”

“Not yet.” Sarif walked around his desk. “Adam, have you slept at all last night?”

“No. It doesn’t matter. Do you know what happens to his things now?”

“I don’t,” Sarif replied with a shrug. “I guess if his family doesn’t claim them, they’re being disposed of.”

“I want them.”

“Adam?” Sarif tilted his head with a frown. “What… why?”

“I… I don’t know.” Adam looked past Sarif and out of the window again. “I just… I just can’t let go. Not yet. I know it’s not going to change anything. I know it’s not… it’s not for holding on to them so he can have them back one day. I just… I can’t let it go. Not yet.”

“I see.” Sarif huffed out a sigh. “I’ll pull a few strings. If it helps you cope, I don’t see the harm in that.”

“The truth is, I don’t know if it will,” Adam replied. “I don’t know if anything ever will.”

“Adam.” Sarif’s voice was very gentle as he stepped to Adam’s side. “How… close have you two really been, behind all that bickering and arguing?”

“Not any closer than it looked like,” Adam replied heavily, choking on his own regrets. “I just realised… I realised I knew next to nothing about him. And I feel that… I should have made more of an effort. I regret that I didn’t.”

“Son.” Sarif laid a hand on his shoulder. “A wise man once said that in our lives, we regret the things we didn’t do and should have done a lot more than the things we did and should not have done. And I’m sorry you’re having to go through this.”

Adam could only shrug, because those words tightened his throat too much for him to speak.

He had never seen Pritchard smile. Truly smile, not that half-annoyed smirk he had sometimes sported when they had shared a rare moment of understanding, being annoyed by the same thing. And now, he never would. He didn't know how Pritchard looked when he smiled, how his laughter would sound, and he would never get the chance to find out.

But life had to go on, somehow. So he headed back to his office, back to his job, and tried not to think of the empty Tech Lab.

There was one email in his inbox. A circular to all staff, informing everyone that Frank Pritchard had passed away during the night before yesterday. No further details were included.

He made it for all of five hours before he found himself in front of the locked Tech Lab anyway. A few flowers were lying in front of the door, and two lit candles were burning next to them.

Adam turned around again, and left the building in what was almost a run.

* * *

His awareness returned, but he woke up into a world of pain.

“Did he make it?”

“Looks like. He’s waking up.”

His head was throbbing so viciously he wanted to throw up, but he was too weak to move.

“How long until he’s recovered form the surgery?”

“A week at least. We should keep him under during the healing process. He’ll also need more neuropozine now.”

“That’s not gonna be a problem. And it’s not as if we’re in a hurry to have him up and functional again. Take all the time you need to fix him up, doc.”

“And are you sure he’s going to cooperate?”

Frank didn’t have time to think about those words before his body grew warm and fuzzy. With the receding pain his consciousness began to dissolve, and the last words he heard vanished into a cotton-wool like blur.

“If this works as planned then he won’t have a choice.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains the funeral mentioned in the tags. Just a heads-up.

When Adam returned to work the next day, Sarif was waiting for him in front of his office, two e-books in his hand. 

“Boss?”

“I got my hands on the DPD reports,” Sarif said and held out the e-books. “Forensics, and the coroner’s report.”

“And?” Adam took the books, feeling as if he had swallowed a bucket of rocks. 

“Nothing.” Sarif shook his head. “No sign of accelerators or any other foul play. And the… body has been identified without doubt. Dental records, a broken arm from his childhood, remains of the cranial implants. They couldn’t make a full DNA test due to… the state of the body, but what they could salvage is a match. I’m sorry, Adam.”

Adam took the e-books anyway with a nod, and entered his office. He fell down into his chair and opened the first of the reports. 

The forensic experts had examined the bedroom and there had been no traces of any fire accelerators. The window had been damaged from the inside out, caused by the fire, not by an outside force throwing something through the glass. The remnants of a lighter and two empty bottles of whiskey next to the bed indicating that he had been smoking and drinking in bed, and then had fallen asleep while drunk.

Adam could only shake his head. This was wrong. It had to be wrong. 

The next was a short summary of the coroner’s report. The body burned beyond recognition, with not enough tissue left for a toxicological examination. No traces of violence, no bullet wound, no knife wound, no pre- or postmortem damaged bones. Time of death approximately 3 am.

The body had been identified without ambiguity on the basis of dental and medical records and a DNA analysis as Francis Wendell Pritchard, born 24th of June 1991, deceased 3rd of March 2028. 

Adam closed his hand with a grimace, and the e-book turned into a mess of deformed plastic, wires, and shards of circuit boards between his fingers. 

He had seen the bedroom. There was no way a simple cigarette could cause such an inferno, causing all the furniture and the carpet to burn, without any outside influence. At this point the rest of the apartment should have been ablaze as well, but it was only the bedroom. Something was wrong. Every scrap of cop instincts and gut feeling screamed at him that something was wrong. 

“Yeah, and what are you going to do about it?” he muttered, and dropped the mess in his hand into the trash bin. 

Adam spent the rest of the day sitting at his desk staring at nothing but memories, until he remembered the snake. He told Sarif he had something to take care of, and for now Sarif indulged him and let him go. 

It took a bit of convincing and the use of his CASIE to get the information he needed, namely, that the snake had been picked up by the nearest animal shelter after the police had made the call. Adam didn’t waste any time and headed there as fast as he could, worried to an unhealthy degree that the animal might be in danger of being put down. 

He reached the shelter shortly before noon, and immediately asked for the snake that must have been picked up the day before from an apartment, because the owner had died in a fire. 

It still made his throat burn and his tongue feel like it was dipped in acid to say those words, but shying away from them wouldn’t do him any good.

The snake, a king python, as it turned out, was alive and well, curled up under a heat lamp in a terrarium about the third of the size of Pritchard’s. 

“I’m taking it,” Adam said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I need to move the terrarium, and I’m going to read up on reptile care and the like. I’ll be here in a few days to pick him… her…?”

“It’s a boy,” the young man who had shown him to the snake offered helpfully. 

“I’ll be picking him up in a few days.” He gave the man a glare. “And he better be still here.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” the young man replied with a frown. “We’re a no-kill shelter and we’re more than happy if he gets a good forever home.”

Forever home. Because he didn’t have a home anymore. 

Adam busied himself the rest of the day organising affairs with a storage company who would come the next day, as soon as the police had given the all clear, and with finding resources about snakes and terrarium logistics.

He spent another sleepless night, and he was at Pritchard’s apartment the next morning even before the police arrived to remove the sealing tape. He called the storage company, and an hour later one of their staff arrived to drop off an array of boxes. Adam wanted to pack everything himself, and would call them again to pick up the boxes once he was done. 

As he began emptying the bookshelf his eyes fell onto a small cardboard box the size of an e-book, and about two inches high. He cautiously opened it, and looked at a collection of photographs. 

He slowly took the stack of pictures out of the box. He felt like an intruder somehow, but Pritchard was gone and Adam was desperate to learn more about the man he had been. 

A picture of a couple he assumed were Pritchard’s parents. He could see a faint likeness between him and the woman sitting in a chair, holding a baby dressed in a white, long garment with a blue ribbon. A christening robe. 

A picture of a little boy with a gap-toothed grin sitting on the lap of an elderly woman. His grandmother, the one who had given him that book. There were a few more pictures of Pritchard’s parents, among them a wedding picture, and one of his mother with a huge baby bump, beaming happily into the camera. Another with the grandmother, and a big German Shepard that the boy in the picture was hugging with a huge, happy smile. A toddler with a bright yellow sunhat sitting in the grass trying to eat a daisy. 

Memories of happier times, when life had been so much easier.

Some more pictures of the grandmother, her progressing age documented by the few photographs. She must have passed away many years ago.

Pritchard, now more recognisable, as gangly teenager at his high school graduation. The last picture was of him and his parents, who were dressed in finery, all of them standing under a large number twenty-five made from silver cardboard which was hanging from the ceiling. Pritchard himself was dressed in a suit that fit extremely poorly because he was as thin as a stick, and his screaming green hair was pulled back into a messy bun. He did not look particularly happy, the rift between him and his parents more than obvious.

“Green?” Adam swallowed with a watery smile. “The fuck were you thinking, Francis?”

Adam put the pictures back, closed the box again, and slipped it into the pocket of his coat without knowing why. Then he turned his attention back to the books. 

He packed the boxes as thoroughly and systematically as he would if Pritchard were just moving house. He carefully put the graphic novels in one box, the books in another. The third one now held the CDs and the vinyl figures. He emptied the bathroom and packed towels, toiletries, grooming equipment, and an array of hair ties. He went into the kitchen and began packing utensils, dinnerware, and tea towels. 

Then his eye fell onto a single Cyberboost bar on the kitchen counter. 

Adam picked it up. Took a step back, and another, until his back hit the wall. He slid down onto the tiled floor, and clutching the Cyberboost bar in his hand so hard he turned it into a mush, he went completely to pieces.

* * *

Adam was somewhat composed again when the storage company arrived, his eyes hidden behind his shades, the Cyberboost mess cleaned from his hand. 

Within less than an hour the apartment was empty, no sign remaining of the man who had lived here for the last eight years. Adam took one last look around, and then closed the door behind him. There was nothing left for him here.

Most of the boxes from Pritchard’s apartment went into a storage unit, but two of them, plus the terrarium, ended up in the lobby of the Chiron building. And by the end of the day the terrarium was set up against the stairs behind the sofa, as a sort of room divider. Adam had emptied the table under the window; he hadn’t looked a the watch making equipment in months anyway. The table now held the two vintage PCs and their paraphernalia, plus the box with the pictures. 

The leather jacket was lying on the top of Adam’s wardrobe. He still had no explanation why he did that. Why he had done all of this. Why he was acting as if Pritchard had moved in and would come home from leave any day now. 

He just knew this one thing: he could not let go. Not yet. 

Adam spent most of his sleepless night reading one article after another about reptile care in general and king pythons in particular. He was at the shelter the next day, and by the end of that afternoon, the snake had moved back into his terrarium, albeit in another location. 

“I wonder if you had a name,” Adam said to the reptile as it curled around the branch under the heat lamp. “I mean, I’m pretty sure you have one. I’ll just never know what it is.” A lopsided smile appeared on his lips. “Probably something super nerdy like a character from an ancient video game or something. I guess I’ll have to think of a new one.”

Because he could not bear the thought of just calling the animal Snake. 

He sat down at his own PC and googled old video game classics. He came across one that had been released the same year as Pritchard had been born, and somehow, reading about this game, he felt as if this was something Pritchard might have done. 

“I don’t know what your name was, and I’ll never find out now,” he said to the snake. “But from now on you’ll be Duke Nukem.”

The snake remained completely unimpressed. He probably wouldn’t have blinked even had he been capable of blinking. 

Then Adam headed towards the table, picked up the box with the pictures, but put it down again without opening it. He looked out of the window and crossed his arms. Raindrops were creeping down the glass, each one reflecting the street lamps in tiny dots of yellow. 

“Don’t worry, Pritchard,” Adam whispered to the night. “I’ll take good care of him.”

* * *

Adam spent the next days days in a strange haze, at work but without remembering anything he had done that day. 

Every morning when he left the house he made a detour through the parking garage of the Chiron building, to look at the tarp-covered bike sitting in the parking space that was allotted to his apartment. He had never needed it before, because he didn’t have a car. Now he used it to keep Pritchard’s bike safe from the elements, and from theft or vandalism. Every night when he came home he did the same. Maybe he should take motorcycle driving lessons, so it wouldn’t rust away down there.

People kept out of his way, more so than usual, and even Sarif mostly avoided him. He only contacted him once to inform him that Pritchard’s family had claimed the body and were now transferring it back to New Hampshire, and to ask if he wanted to attend the funeral. 

The Funeral. Pritchard’s funeral. A goddamn fucking funeral, probably with tears and flowers and sad music and everything that Pritchard would have hated, and that would end with Pritchard, or what was left of him, dropped into a hole and covered with six foot of cold, wet dirt. 

The next day, Adam arrived at the helipad at the crack of dawn, where he met with Sarif, who was wearing an elegant black trench coat, and Malik who had forgone her usual flight suit in favour of black jeans and a black jacket. They were silent during the flight to New Hampshire, and Adam still hadn’t said a word as they landed in a small town called Battleboro. 

There were no more than a handful of people waiting in front of the small chapel, among them an older couple who had to be Pritchard’s parents; Adam could recognise them from the pictures. He didn’t speak to them however, and entered the chapel behind Sarif in silence. 

There was a closed coffin with a modest floral arrangement, and on the coffin sat a monochrome picture of Pritchard in a black frame. He wasn’t smiling. He never smiled on any of the pictures Adam had ever seen of him, not after he had left his childhood behind.

They all settled down in silence, but Adam zoned out throughout the ceremony. He had no interest in pious songs and sermons that Pritchard would have had rolled his eyes over. Doubtlessly this whole thing had been organised by his parents, who seemed to be devoutly religious. It didn't fit in with the picture Adam had of Pritchard, and he began to understand where all the disagreement and friction had started that had led to not being on speaking terms for years. 

And then was torn out of his half-trance when Sarif got up and headed towards the coffin. He looked composed, but his paleness and slightly reddish eyes spoke of his grief. 

“Frank wasn’t a man of many words,” Sarif began with a sad smile. “I know that he wouldn’t have liked a long, distinguished eulogy, but he was an extraordinary man. When I met him, a little more than eight years ago, it was at a dark moment in his life. He had made mistakes, and fate hadn’t been kind to him for that. But he took the chance that I was able to offer him, and made himself a new life, made himself a new man. I always respected him for that. It’s not easy, making a new start from scratch. 

“But Frank, he was stubborn, and had the strength to match. From how I met him, and how long we’ve been working together, I can say that I knew him well, both his quirks and his strengths. He was a loner, and although he preferred his own company over others, I know without doubt that he was hiding a good man under his prickly facade. He might have hissed at you when you asked for his help, but help, he would. Frank was one of the best and most diligent men I ever had the luck to employ.”

Sarif paused for a moment, and then he sighed. 

“His loss will be keenly felt, and life won’t be the same without him.”

Then he turned towards the coffin and inclined his head. 

“Godspeed, Frank. We will miss you.”

With that he turned away, and returned to his place next to Adam. The ceremony was over soon afterwards, and Adam and Malik got up to take their position next to the casket. They had both volunteered to be among the pallbearers, and now Adam took one of the brass handles of the coffin to accompany Pritchard on the last part of his last journey. 

It was when the coffin was being lowered that Pritchard’s mother broke down with a sob, falling to her knees next to the open grave. Her husband knelt down next to her and embraced her, and while he was staring at the grave with a stony face, his wife was now crying in big, shaky sobs. 

“You can’t do that, Frankie… you can’t do that to Mommy... You can’t die away from me...” She was shaking, her face buried in her hands. “You can’t die away from me!” Then she dropped her hands with another sob, her voice pitched high in agony. “We didn’t fix it, Frank! We didn’t fix it! Why didn’t we fix it? God, why didn’t we fix it?”

It was hard to watch, and Adam closed his eyes and lowered his head. He couldn’t close his ears however, and he was relieved beyond words to express it when it was finally over and he could return with Sarif and Malik to the VTOL.

He didn’t look back. There was no point.

* * *

The beeping of a heart monitor. Mumbling voices, the words to blurred and jumbled for him to understand. 

Jarring pain. He couldn’t open his eyes. 

One of the voices again, much closer now. 

“It’s of no use. I told you we have to keep him under. You’re just jeopardizing the whole thing with your impatience.”

“Fine. How long?”

“A week, I guess. More, if we want to play it safe.”

Frank wanted to beg for mercy, for them to make this pain go away, but mercy was granted despite his inability to form words. Everything vanished in darkness and silence again.


	4. Chapter 4

Frank opened his eyes after slowly surfacing into consciousness, and despite the faint, muddled memories he could tell that the pain in his head was hardly there anymore. A mild throbbing, a sting on every beat of his heart. And a rhythmic beeping, also matching the beating of his heart. A heart monitor. He was in a hospital somewhere.

He tried to sit up but his arms were to weak to hold his weight, so he stared at the white ceiling for some time and tried to put together what had happened to him. It took him a while, but he finally remembered that he had been on his way home from work when some people had ambushed him. The searing pain in his neck must have been a stun gun, or something like that.

He had no idea where he was, and what had happened during the time he had been unconscious, but he could dimly remember having been awake, or sort of awake, a few times. He also remembered a terrible pain in his head, but that pain was mostly gone now. And while his arms couldn’t support him yet he could move them and he hesitantly touched the side of his head where the pain was most intense.

The first thing he felt was stubble of recently shaved hair, and with a gush of shock he hastily groped at his head. His hair was still there however, most of it at least; there was only a patch on the side of his head, around his temple, that was shaved. It was about the size of his hand. And at the center… at the center of that Frank could feel two bits of metal, the size and shape of his thumb, glued flat and parallel to each other to the skin of his temple.

Or maybe not glued. He remembered the pain, and comparing it with what he had felt after he had gotten his cranial implants, he recognised that pain.

Panic washed over him like an icy wave. Someone had put more implants into his brain, and he had no idea what kind of implants, what they would do to him, and what the reason was for his kidnapping and the forced augmentation.

“Jensen?”

But there was an uncomfortable, unfamiliar silence in his head. They had taken out the infolink, either by removing it or by deactivating it, but either way, he couldn’t call for help. He was on his own.

Frank now tried to keep calm and take stock. He was in a medical facility somewhere. His infolink was dead. Someone had kidnapped him, someone who had been after him, specifically. So it was someone Frank had a past with. And now he had more implants in his brain that did fuck knows what.

But he had been out for a while, by the way his head felt. Last time after his surgery he had been kept under for almost a week, and it had taken another week before the pain had receded to a manageable level. So he had been gone for at least two weeks, and surely, Jensen would be looking for him now, right? But given the fact that Jensen had not found him yet, Frank could only assume that they also had managed to remove or deactivate his GPL implant. And without that, Jensen had no clue where to look.

There was nothing for him but to wait and see who had him, and what they wanted of him. And maybe, he could find a way to call for help at least, if he couldn’t find a way out of here.

He could hear a door open, and steps towards his bed. An unfamiliar face came into view.

“Oh, good. You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“About as good as you expect, when you’ve been kidnapped and had some implants stuffed into your brain.” Frank tried to glare but he was too tired, and his throat hurt even from so few words.

“Well, at least you survived.” The stranger smiled. It was a rather unpleasant smile, and not one you want to see when you wake up after a non-consensual brain surgery. “You’ll need a few days until you’re on your feet again.”

“What happened to me?” Frank asked. “What did you do to me?”

“Oh, we just supplemented those cranial augmentations, and deactivated that infolink. We also removed your GPL implant, so you don’t need to waste any energy on hoping to be rescued. The rest, the boss will explain to you.”

“And who is that boss? Do I know him?” Frank wasn’t sure that he wanted to know, but he needed at least the illusion of being in control of even the tiniest shred of himself.

“You’ll see,” was the only answer he got.

Frank let his eyes fall shut with a shudder. He was on his own. Completely on his own. And he was afraid. He was terrified. Whatever they had done to him, whatever they wanted to do to him, Frank was completely helpless to prevent any of it.

* * *

Frank spent a few days more in the hospital room, the only person in contact with him the doctor he had met after he had woken up. When he was finally able to leave the bed he was given a set of underwear and a blue jumpsuit, and with a suffocating sense of deja-vu he got dressed and followed the doctor out of the room, and down a corridor.

The doctor then knocked on a door, and opened it when someone called to come in.

Frank had the unpleasant feeling that he knew the voice, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. But then he stepped into the room, and his heart seized in his chest and tried to jump out of his throat.

“Hi Frank,” Jonas said with the most unpleasant, oily smile Frank had ever seen. “Or may I still call you Snake?”

Frank could only shake his head. Jonas had put on a lot of weight during the last years, had grown pudgy and plump, his face round-cheeked with a double-chin. His right eye and his left arm were both augmentations, but of the elegant, sophisticated and expensive sort. He was still Jonas, however, with the striking grey eyes and the long, sharp nose, even though his hair was blonde now, and the nose ring was gone.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Jonas walked towards him in slow, measured steps. “I assume you remember me?”

“I do,” Frank replied, making no effort to hide his loathing. “Spider.”

“You know, I would like to say something along the lines of ‘let’s go back to the good old times’, but I suppose I can save my breath.”

Frank saw no need to reply.

“Exactly. That’s why I took measures, you know. To assure your cooperation.”

“And what is that cooperation for?” Frank crossed his arms.

“We need your skill, your… expertise,” Jonas replied. “I need to get my hands on some items of value, and you’re the best tool I can think of. After Sarif has made you his little toy, now it’s my turn.”

“Is this you getting back at me for what happened in prison?” Frank asked, trying to keep at least outwardly calm.

“Ah, that discussion about loyalty, yes, I remember. Although I have to admit, you had a point back then. But you gave me plenty of opportunity to regret that.”

“I’m touched.”

“No doubt you are,” Jonas replied with an unpleasant smile. “But since I know now how loyalty works I made sure that… well, let’s just say wherever your loyalties lie now, they won’t get in the way.”

Frank gritted his teeth, but he felt his blood run cold when Jonas produced a small item from his pocket. It looked far too much like a remote control for Frank to not be scared shitless just from looking at it.

Jonas smiled broadly, and pressed one of the buttons.

The pain jolting through Frank’s head brought him to his knees, and he doubled over with a yelp of pain he had no means to stop.

“I’m sorry, Frank. I don’t like torture. But I need your skill, and I need you to do as I say. So… as long as you comply, you won’t get hurt.”

“I’m pretty sure that was a lie, you jerk,” Frank rasped at him from his position on the floor, and he tried to force himself onto his feet again. “You really enjoyed pressing that button.”

“Fuck you!” Jonas screamed at him, the jovial facade suddenly gone without a trace. “I would have enjoyed it a lot less if you hadn’t abandoned me!”

“I wouldn’t have abandoned you it you hadn’t thrown me to the wolves!” Frank yelled back.

“Ah, it’s down to loyalty again,” Jonas snarled. “Whatever. It’s in the past, and I doubt we’ll end up in bed together.” The oily, unpleasant smile was back. “Unless you want it, of course.”

“I’d rather screw a cactus.” Frank found his balance again, and crossed his arms. Something in Jonas’ eyes was disturbing, something was off. He felt he was looking at a man who had only been kept alive by spite and anger for too long a time.

 _You did this_ , a voice at the back of his head whispered. _You did this when you abandoned him in a fit of petty revenge._

But it was Jonas who had abandoned him first. And Frank had honestly not wanted to risk his chance, being unable to trust Jonas again. Jonas had decided to fight on his own and for himself, and so Frank had done the same.

“Suit yourself,” Jonas said with a shrug. “I could make you, but where would the fun be in that.”

Frank gritted his teeth and remained silent. No point in riling someone up who held the remote control to the torture device implanted into your brain.

“Come with me,” Jonas said then, and Frank had no choice but to follow.

Down a flight of stairs and along another dimly lit corridor, past a few open doors leading into empty rooms with furniture and boxes and unrecognisable things covered with dust sheets. Frank guessed that they were in an abandoned office or factory building somewhere.

Then Jonas unlocked a door and pushed Frank inside.

There was a large desk, a computer with two screens, and a chair in the center of a large room. It looked like an open plan office where someone had pushed all desks against the wall apart from this one, and Frank began to get a dark suspicion about what was expected of him now. There was a mattress with a blanket pushed up to the wall behind the desk, next to a closed door.

“Your new home,” Jonas said with acrid cheerfulness. “But look, you can have a washroom with a door you can close behind you!”

“How generous,” Frank said, though to be honest, it was a relief. Then he looked at the desk again. “And what is it you want me to do?”

“Simple.”

Jonas gestured towards the chair, and Frank sat down. Better not to aggravate him. He had no desire to be at the business end of that remote again.

“I have a few customers, who want a few blueprints. A lot of good money involved in this. But… alas, the company who holds them sits behind very strong protections.”

“I see.” Frank looked at the screen, and switched it on. No use in resisting.

“So, you get me those blueprints, and we’ll get along.”

“We won’t, but maybe you won’t fry what’s left of my brain if I do,” Frank muttered, and adjusted his position in the chair.

Jonas chuckled and shrugged, then he crossed his arms. “I assume you can imagine why I chose you?”

“Cranial implants and know-how?”

“That, too.” Jonas shrugged again. “We both know you’ve always been the better hacker, though I wouldn’t have admitted it back then. But the main reason is that you’re the one person most familiar with the defenses you need to break through.”

Frank’s head flew up, and he stared at Jonas out of widening eyes. “Fuck you, you asshole!”

Jonas slipped one hand in his pocket, and Frank’s world whited out in a flash of pain. He fell out of his chair and ended up in fetal position under the desk before the agony finally stopped.

“Really, Frank… I thought you were cleverer than that.”

Frank managed to uncurl, and managed to sit up, and even managed to grab the trash bin next to the desk before he would have hurled the contents of his stomach across the carpet.

He stared up at Jonas, his vision blurry and his head still spinning, the taste of bile on his tongue. “You fucking asshole,” he muttered, throat raw and aching.

“Get up, and do your job,” Jonas snapped at him now, every pretense at humor gone from his voice. “There’s a list next to your keyboard, of the specifications I need.”

“You know that I can’t just waltz through that firewall even though I built it, right?” Frank dragged himself upright, and back into the chair. He was still shaky. “I made this thing impenetrable from the outside.”

“But nothing is, Frankie boy.” Jonas lifted his eyebrows. “You know the weakness.”

“I tried to minimise it where I could,” Frank replied heavily. “I’ll be setting off a million alarms if I just attack the firewall.”

“Then be clever,” Jonas replied. “Take all the time you need. No one will come looking for you.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” Frank asked, looking up again. The truth was he didn’t have much hope, but Jonas sounded damn sure of himself.

“Why, you’re dead, of course.”

Frank literally could not process that thought.

“You see,” Jonas explained, and leaned against the desk, “we set fire to your bedroom, after dropping the body of a hobo that nobody will ever miss into your bed. We also took your clothes, so your jacket and shoes and backpack were in your apartment. A few empty whiskey bottles and pack of smokes. And a little help from a bottle of gasoline.”

“That’s not going to fool the forensics.”

“Depends on the forensic in question,” Jonas replied smugly. “Reports can be… adjusted. I also made sure the autopsy report said the right things. It all matches your medical records, dental records, and implants, and even the DNA test is positive. And since the body was burned to a crisp, that’s all they have to identify you by.”

Frank felt his blood run cold. His apartment gone up in flames, and a stranger burned in the fires to pose as his corpse. His things… oh god, the snake… He felt his eyes burn and his vision blur.

“So you see, not only is there nothing for you to go back to, there is literally no chance in hell anyone comes looking for you. They won’t even think of it. Your funeral was quite touching, by the way. I had someone attend it, even with a camera. You can watch it, if you like.”

“You are sick in the head,” Frank whispered hoarsely.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Jonas said with a nerve-grating chuckle. “Fact is, everything your life was, is gone now. And no one will ever think of looking for you. You’re stuck here. And I have the motivation to make you do what I want right here, in my pocket.” He patted the pocket in question.

Frank was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was, quite literally, dead to the world, and that there was zero chance anyone might ever come to his rescue. He was truly and utterly on his own. So he needed time, he needed time and strength to plan something. And that meant he had to comply for now.

He took a few deep breaths, his eyes on the hand that was resting on Jonas’ pocket.

“Just… just don’t hurt me again,” he muttered, and didn’t need to pretend his voice didn’t carry. “But it’s going to take a while until I can figure out how to get around my own defenses. I know how they work, which is the reason I cant just hack through.”

“Take your time,” Jonas said, and pushed himself off the desk. “But give me the impression your stalling because you’re planning something, and you’ll regret that.”

Frank saw no reason to reply. He looked at the screen, and pulled the chair up closer to the desk. For now, there was nothing else he could do.

* * *

Adam sat on the sofa in his office, and read the report of the forensics for the hundredth time.

No accelerators. No sign of foul play.

Adam had lost track of the days since he had helped lower the coffin into his grave, and he still couldn’t let go.

He just knew that something was wrong. He had been in that bedroom, for fuck’s sake, he had seen the devastation that he was convinced a single cigarette could not have caused.

His mind drifted, to the day before when he had gone to the Tech Lab where one of the janitors was just scraping Pritchard’s name off the sign next to the door.

_He entered the lab and looked around, and at a man in his late twenties who had just dropped a stack of folders onto the desk._

_“You’re the new guy?”_

_“Chris Buckner. I’m the new head of cybersecurity.”_

_Adam nodded, and looked around. The arch of old screens. The posters. The bike. Old computer parts in wooden frames on the walls._

_“Anything you don’t want, I’ll take it,” Adam said without preamble. “Nothing here is going to be trashed.”_

_Buckner seemed more than slightly intimidated, and shook his head. “No, really, it’s all cool! The posters, the old graphic and sound card?” Then he smiled. “They’re awesome. Also that arch? Awesome 3000. I mean… the bike is probably…”_

_“I’ll take that off your hands. Give me a day or two.”_

_“Not gonna touch it,” Buckner replied, his smile slightly nervous._

_Adam left the Tech Lab, and resisted the urge to punch the glass wall into a million shards as he watched the last letter of Pritchard’s name being scraped into a_ _trash bag._

Then he had called the storage company, and later had – his augmentations be blessed – simply carried the VR bike outside. It was now stored with the rest of Pritchard’s things, wrapped in a watertight packaging to protect the electronics from moisture.

After dropping the report onto the sofa next to him Adam got up, paced a few times back and forth along the window overlooking the atrium, and finally came to a halt. He looked down and uncrossed his arms, and took his phone out of his pocket. After a moment’s hesitation he unlocked it and checked his calendar. March, 27th. It was more than three weeks since Pritchard had died, and Adam had no idea where that time had gone.

And he still had questions. Reading the reports and going through his memories had always produced the same results. He had questions, and there were people who could answer them, and he would not leave the precinct again without those answers. CASIE was up and running, and with his shades snapping into place, Adam headed down the stairs and towards the main exit of the lobby, ignoring the people who were on their way upstairs to start their work day.

A gust of cold wind felt like a slap to his face as he stepped outside. He took a deep breath, defying the icy air, and started walking.


	5. Chapter 5

Adam looked at the door to the DPD building, and entered after another moment’s hesitation. This time there was no one he knew at the receptionist desk, and with the help of the CASIE he convinced the receptionist that he was a private investigator from Sarif Industries on the case of Francis Pritchard. He usually felt bad when he had to do that, but in this case every means was acceptable that got him the information he needed. 

He started with the forensic department. He went through the pheromone-supplemented private investigator process again, and finally got his hands on the original files, not only the copy Sarif had given him. 

It was exactly the same content he had read a hundred times before. There was no additional information, no footnotes, no addendum, nothing. He dropped the report onto the desk with a frustrated sigh. 

“Can I speak to Dr Bowen?” he asked, looking up at the man who had given him the report. 

“Bowen?” He frowned. “Oh, right. Not just like this, I’m afraid. They called in an external expert team for this case, from the Henry C. Lee Institute in Boston. Bunch of arrogant stuck-ups.” His facial expression made it clear what he thought of being declared insufficient. “They specialise in fire sources and damage, and the bodies that were barbecued too long for anyone else to work with.”

“Right,” Adam growled, not bothering to hide his own frustration. “So you were never at the site.”

“No. Only saw the pictures.”

“And did your coroner even get to see the body?”

“You have to ask him that yourself,” the DPD forensic replied sourly. “And now if you will excuse me.”

Adam nodded and left, and after a few deep breaths, he headed downstairs towards the morgue. 

But the DPD coroner had not done anything but have a cursory look at the body before the specialists from Boston had taken over, and he, too, had no additional information to offer. 

“Who’s the officer on this case?” Adam asked, unwilling to give up. 

“Blake,” the coroner replied. “Third floor, if I remember correctly.”

“Thanks.”

Adam was aware that Officer Blake was his last chance to get any more information on this case. He had no qualms to use his CASIE on him until he was a gibbering mess, but that was unnecessary because Officer Blake turned out to be cooperative. Adam finally had a few files he hadn’t seen before, and in his eagerness to get got his hands on anything in addition to what little he had, he didn’t stop to think before he opened the first folder. 

He immediately wished he hadn’t, because that folder contained the pictures from the scene, taken right after the fire department had moved out. It shouldn’t even have caught him unawares; he had been a cop, he _knew_ what would be in those files. But he had only been thinking of more information. 

He immediately slammed the file shut again but it was too late, it was there now, in his mind, and he knew that the sight of the almost skeletal arm hanging out of the bed would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

“Yeah, not a pretty sight, that one.” Blake shrugged. “The guys said the body fell apart like a pile of burnt matches. Had to put every bone separately into the bag. Guess that one didn’t get an open casket funeral.”

Adam felt his skin crawl and his stomach turn and he could barely suppress punching the officer into the wall at his back, because that wouldn’t get him anywhere. Instead he took another file and opened that. Several interviews with witnesses, but no one had seen anything. Not surprising, since the fire had started long after midnight. 

But then he turned another page, and his eyes widened. 

Adam looked up at Blake again. “A boyfriend? Really?”

“Ex-boyfriend, according to Anderson. Just read the damn thing yourself.”

Adam did. According to the interview, Nathan Anderson and Pritchard had been together for several months until a very bad and heated argument two weeks ago. Anderson had stated that Pritchard had visited him on the evening of the third of March, to “try and fix things” but Anderson had declared things over. 

A very neat explanation why someone would get piss-drunk and fall asleep with a burning cigarette in bed. 

Too neat. 

There was no explanation for the acrid feeling of frustration and anger Adam felt when he read about the boyfriend, but he didn't have time to unpack that. He noted down the address of Nathan Anderson, thanked Blake for his cooperation, and left the precinct again. He desperately tried to banish the image of the burnt arm from his mind, but that mercy was not granted to him.

* * *

According to the file he had read, Anderson was a man in his early twenties, and that fact alone made Adam feel uncomfortable. He couldn’t see Pritchard getting it on with someone who was more than ten years his junior. 

Adam had reached the address now, but no one answered the door. Luckily Anderson lived on the first floor, and Adam walked around the apartment building and tried to catch a glimpse through the window, but he saw nothing. 

Literally nothing. The room he was looking at was empty. He headed back into the building again and hacked the door to the empty apartment. It was furnished sparsely: a kitchenette and a table with two chairs in one room, a bed and a wardrobe in the other. But there was nothing else. No books, no clothes, no toothbrush, no food in the fridge. 

Gritting his teeth and with his hands curled into fists Adam left again, and knocked at the door next to Anderson’s. An elderly lady opened and put on a pair of glasses that had been hanging from a golden chain around her neck. 

“Yes?”

“Pardon the interruption, Ma'am.” Adam took a deep breath to stay calm. This old lady had nothing to do with anything. “The man who lived next door. When did he move out?”

“Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “Not so long ago. A few days. He didn’t even say goodbye. Such a nice young man, he sometimes helped me with the groceries. And then, one day I see him carry out a few boxes, and gone he is.”

“You don’t happen to know where, do you? Did he say anything?”

The old lady shook her head. “Nothing.”

Adam gritted his teeth for a second. “Have you ever met his boyfriend? A man who was a bit older than him, with brown hair in a ponytail?”

She blinked a few times, and then shook her head. “Never saw someone like that. Come to think of it, I never saw him bring anyone home. And the walls are very thin here, if you catch my drift.”

“I see. Thank you for your help.” Adam took another deep breath, and was about to turn away when a thought occurred to him. “Do you happen to know how long Mr Anderson has been living here?”

“About two months, or…” Now it was the old lady’s turn to look confused. “Anderson? No, I think you’re mistaken. That young man’s name was Williams. Are you sure you’re in the right house?”

“Maybe not,” Adam replied, doing his best to remain calm. “I apologise for the interruption. Have a nice day.”

The old lady smiled him, and closed the door. 

Adam left the building, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. He made his way back to Sarif Industries as fast as he could, but he needed a coffee to calm down before he could do anything else. At least the tiniest bit. Equipped with the paper cup he knocked on Malik’s office door. 

“Malik. Do you have time to accompany me to see Sarif?”

Malik looked up from her book with a puzzled frown. “Sarif?”

“Please,” Adam said, and the urgency in his voice made her frown deepen. “Faridah… remember Hengsha? Remember Evelyn?”

“What has that…” Malik got up. 

“I need you to help me convince Sarif to let me go to Boston.”

“Boston?” Malik fell into step beside him. “Why Boston?”

“The forensics dealing with Pritchard’s case were an external specialist team from Boston. Nobody in the DPD had anything to do with the scene investigation and the post-mortem. And things just don’t add up.”

“Adam…” Malik sighed as she stepped into the elevator with him. “Are you sure you’re not being-”

“In denial?” Adam cut in. “I’m in denial up to my ears. That’s why I’m doing this. I saw that bedroom, Malik. No single cigarette could have done that much damage, but according to the report, there were no accelerants.”

“And…” Malik tilted her head. “What has that got to do with me and Evelyn?”

“I guess you remember the falsified police report and a buried autopsy file?”

Malik opened her mouth, but then shut it again. “And you think…”

“I don’t think, Malik. I know. I fucking know that something is wrong here.”

Malik nodded slowly, and took a deep breath. Together they entered Sarif’s office, who was more than a little surprised to see them. 

“Boss,” Adam began. “I need to go to Boston.”

Sarif blinked. “And… why would you need to go to Boston?”

“To speak with a few forensics. The DPD didn’t conduct the investigations about Pritchard’s death. About the scene, and the autopsy. That was an external specialist team from Boston.”

“And what…” Sarif sighed and got up. “What do you think those people can tell you?”

“The bedroom couldn’t have looked like this without accelerators. I’ve been a cop, I’ve seen the aftermath of fires before. And today I read an interview-”

“Today?”

Adam took a deep breath. “I was at the precinct. I needed answers, boss. Something is wrong here, I know it.”

“Adam, you’re just…”

“Did you know he had a boyfriend?”

Both Sarif and Malik looked equally confused.

“I… I did not,” Sarif replied after a moment. “But that’s his business, Adam. He doesn’t have to share his private life with me, or you, or anyone else.”

“No, of course he doesn’t. But that boyfriend, he’s more than ten years younger than him and-”

“Adam!” Sarif crossed his arms. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

“That guy, Anderson, told the police they had a bad break-up, and that Pritchard was at his place because he wanted to fix things. Anderson told him it’s over, and Pritchard went home, got drunk, and died in that fire he caused by smoking in bed and falling asleep.”

“That doesn’t sound too far-fetched,” Sarif said cautiously.

“No, it doesn’t.” Adam crossed his arms. “And that’s the point. It’s neat, it’s too neat, and I went to ask Anderson a few questions. But he moved, only two months after moving in. He no longer lives at the address the police had, and no one knows where he went. And what’s more, the name he gave the police is not the name his neighbours said he had.”

Now Sarif slowly tilted his head. “And you think…”

“I don’t quite know what to think yet. But I know that a witness gave the police a false name, and that no one in Detroit got a proper look at the scene and the body. And that means something is wrong.”

“But that doesn’t mean his ex did it. The guy might have been afraid he’d get blamed if he didn’t have a proper alibi.”

“But he had,” Adam said. “An airtight one. There is literally no reason for him to run.”

Now Malik took a step forward. “Boss. When we were in Hengshah for the second time, Jensen helped me clear up the death of a friend of mine. We were able to prove it was murder, because Jensen managed to dig up a buried autopsy file, and he also found proof that the police report had been falsified. If you know what strings to pull and what hinges to oil with a few credits, anything is possible.” 

“And…” Sarif rubbed his fingers across his forehead. “And what do you think you will find in Boston?”

“I don’t know, exactly.” Adam shook his head. “But things don’t fit together in some places, and too neatly in others. I need to find out if those forensic reports have been tampered with, or were falsified in the first place. I don’t know what has been going on, but I do know that Pritchard’s death can’t have been an accident.”

Sarif was silent for a long moment. He walked towards the window, and stared at the raindrops crawling down the glass. Eventually he turned around again. 

“Adam,” he said then. “And what if you find out you’re right? What then? Bringing the people who did this to justice won’t bring him back. What do you think you can achieve?”

Adam looked at his feet, his shoulders heavy like lead. “Maybe I’ll be able to sleep again one day.”

“Adam.” Sarif stepped towards him. “Look at me.”

Adam looked up. 

“Look at me, son.”

He hesitated for a second before he retracted his shades.

Sarif looked at him for a few seconds, and then he sighed. “Go to Boston,” he said, his voice heavy, yet gentle. “But I can’t pull any strings for you. Don’t paint a target on your back.”

“I won’t.”

Sarif nodded, and Adam and Malik headed back towards the elevator.

* * *

Frank stared at the screen before him, and wondered how much time he had until Jonas would lose his patience. He had no intention to stall for time, it would be too obvious. But he also knew without doubt that once this job was done Jonas had no use for him any more. He had no reason to trust Frank, hence the thing in his brain to make him comply. Jonas had built a pretty impressive operation over the years in whatever this place was, even had his own medical staff for augmentation surgeries – and apparently, falsifying forensic investigations. Frank would have been a real asset, but they both knew it wasn’t going to happen. 

But that meant Frank had only as long as he needed to get the blueprints Jonas was after. He knew Jonas wouldn’t let him leave this place alive, and he needed to make every minute count. He just had no idea how he could look for help, because obviously, he was under observation. Sending any sort of message was too risky. And since whatever he could do needed to be extremely subtle and secretive, it was questionable if anyone would ever figure it out. 

Relying on other people’s cleverness was a poor strategy at the best of times, but right now he didn’t have much of a choice. 

The question was just how to go about it. It had to be subtle enough for Jonas not to notice, but somehow could be identified as a message by the people he sent it to. 

But since he was still trying to figure out how he might get through the firewall without just hacking in and setting off the alarms, he had some time to come up with something. 

At least he was treated surprisingly well for a prisoner, or a slave, of sorts, even though he was not allowed to wear anything other than this blue, almost too tight jumpsuit without pockets. Jonas had set up a divider in front of his bed, and there was a shelf with food and snacks, a microwave, a mini-fridge, and even a small, if cheap and simple coffee maker. He had a wash-room with a door, and while there was no shower, he had running hot and cold water and an electric razor to keep himself acceptably clean. 

Frank occasionally wondered if Jonas was hoping for some sort of Stockholm Syndrome, and he also wondered if playing along that line would gain him any more time. 

As of yet, he wasn’t desperate enough to get anywhere close to Jonas again. The thought of touching him, or kissing him, even, was nothing but revolting. He knew he could do it, to survive. But he really, really didn’t want to. 

Frank sat down again with his mediocre but better-than-nothing coffee, and pondered his options. He knew a few weak points, of course, but that’s what the alarms were for. He had told Jonas as much, and at least Jonas was enough of a hacker to understand the problem, and that this couldn’t be rushed. 

But it was only a question of time before he would run out of patience, and Frank needed to think of something. But he was, after all, still Nucl3arsnake, and he was nothing if not resourceful. 

Frank took a sip of coffee, and froze. Then he put the cup down and swallowed. It might work. It just might work. It wouldn’t be easy since he could not write it down anywhere, not on a scrap of paper nor anywhere on his computer, but with luck, it might work. It might work and maybe… maybe someone at Sarif Industries was clever enough to understand it. The fact that they believed him dead wouldn’t make this any easier, but it was the only shot he had.

Frank took another sip of coffee and set to work.


	6. Chapter 6

“I’ll get myself and the bird ready,” Malik said as they stepped out of the elevator again. “Meet me at the helipad in ten.”

“I’ll be there.”

Adam nodded, and then he slowly turned around. His steps carried him towards the Tech Lab so slowly as if his legs had a life of their own, and were recalcitrant and unwilling to go there.

The name Chris Buckner on the glass made his skin crawl, and the helpless anger was back, but it wasn’t Buckner’s fault so Adam pulled himself together. He entered the Lab with a sigh.

“Jensen?” Buckner looked up. “What can I do for you?”

“I need intel on someone,” Adam replied, and dropped the scrap of paper with the address onto the desk. “Lived at this address under the name of Williams, but gave the police the name Anderson. He’s connected to Pritchard’s death somehow, but he’s vanished off the grid and I need to find him.”

Buckner carefully took the paper and smoothed it out on the table next to his keyboard. “I’ll do what I can,” he said in a low voice. “I know I wanted a pay rise and a promotion but… not like this, man.” He shook his head. “Not like this.”

Adam nodded, but as he turned around he almost ran into someone who was standing there in front of the open door, a young black woman in her twenties with her hair pulled up in an open top-knot. Adam hadn’t seen her before, but hesitated to speak to her when he noticed how she was looking at the name next to the door.

“Thorpe!” Buckner called from the Tech Lab. “Got that coffee?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied, and entered the lab wiping her eyes with one hand, a paper cup clutched in the other.

Adam hesitated after a few steps, and waited for the young woman to leave the Tech Lab again.

“Thorpe?” he asked. “Are you one of the interns?”

“Yes, and yes, I’m related to Greg and Josie Thorpe, they’re my parents,” she said with a crooked smile. “Annie Thorpe. I got the internship here, but… I was hoping to get a permanent job, but now that Sn-” She dug the heel of one hand into her eye, then the other. “I mean… Pritchard told me he’d send Sarif a report on me. He said he’d get me that job. But now…” She sniffed, and bit her lower lip. “Guess that’s down the drain now.”

“Pritchard promised you to get you a job here?”

She nodded. “I know I’m good, and he said I’m good, but there’s an army of people wanting to work at SI and the name Thorpe doesn’t open a lot of doors, not in IT and tech support.”

Adam felt the ghost of a wry smile on his face. “If Pritchard actually said you’re good then you must be one hell of a coder.”

She huffed out a chuckle and shook her head.

“You.. were about to call him Snake, weren't you?”

Her head flew up and she lifted one hand. “I swear, it was months after I started that we realised we’ve been gaming together online! That doesn’t have anything to do with me working here!”

“Easy,” Adam sad slowly. “I didn’t think it was.”

Her shoulders dropped again. “I just…. It’s just… it’s wrong. That he’s not here any more.” She wiped the palm of her hands across her eyes. “We’ve not… we’ve not been friends, you know. Publicly. People would have talked each other’s ears off if they’d seen us together even though we’re both gay. So we kept it online… fuck, why am I telling you all this?”

“Maybe you need to get it off your chest,” Adam replied as gently as he could. “The flowers, and the candles. That was you, wasn’t it?”

She nodded and produced a Kleenex from her pocket to wipe her eyes and nose. “I wanted to be at the funeral, you know.” Her voice was thick. “But nobody told me.”

“I’m sorry.” Adam breathed out a soft sigh. “Maybe you can visit him.”

“Not gonna happen anytime soon.” She looked up at Adam, her eyes still glistening. “New Hampshire isn’t exactly around the corner and I don’t have the money for a ticket.”

“I hope you can figure something out,” Adam replied. “Sorry, I gotta go now. See you around.” He would have to talk to Sarif on her behalf, since Pritchard couldn’t do it any more. But that would have to wait.

She nodded, and Adam left her and headed for the helipad where Malik was already waiting for him. He had two hours in the air to think of the questions he needed to ask. And he would not leave Boston before he had his answers.

* * *

Even as his feet hit the ground after stepping of the VTOL in Boston Adam still had no idea exactly what questions he needed to ask, or what answers he was hoping for. But he knew Pritchard’s death hadn’t been an accident, could not have been an accident. And while Sarif was right and justice wouldn’t bring him back, Pritchard deserved that much. It was the only thing left that Adam could do for him.

He looked at the building of the Henry C. Lee Institute for a moment before he rolled his shoulders and headed towards the door. He had infiltrated Tai Yong Medical and lived to tell the tale, he could infiltrate a medical institute if he had to, should asking questions yield no results.

The search was over faster than he could have imagined, because when he asked for Dr Diane Bowen, all the receptionist had for him was a long, blank look.

“Who?”

“Dr Diane Bowen,” Adam said again, his spine tingling. “She was the leader of a specialist team sent to Detroit for a case.”

The receptionist slowly folded her arms onto her desk. “I don’t know what went wrong here, sir, but I can assure you that there is no Diane Bowen in this Institute, doctor or otherwise, and has never been.”

Adam stared at her for a moment, and it took him every ounce of self-control he had not to yell at her. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” he said huskily and spun around.

“Jensen?” Malik had been waiting for him outside, but when she saw him approach her eyes widened. It made Adam wonder what his face was doing right now.

“There is no Diane Bowen here, has never been,” Adam said.

“Shit…” Malik fell into step beside him.

“Yeah. I knew something was wrong. Someone was sent to Detroit to burke the investigation, by someone who can pull a lot of strings. I knew it couldn't have been an accident.”

“And now?”

“Find out who called in the specialists.” Walking even faster now, Adam pressed a finger against his temple. “Pritchard! You need to-” He choked on his own words and stumbled to a halt, nausea rolling through him like a wave. “...fuck...”

“Jensen?” Malik cautiously touched his shoulder.

“Fuck...” Adam slowly toppled to his knees, and his mind went blank.

“Jensen, come on…”

It was agony. It was hell. It was being thrown through that glass wall all over again. It was worse.

Adam curled his hands into fists, and with a furious, frustrated, helpless growl he punched a hole into the tarmac. “FUCK YOU!” he screamed at the sky. “Whoever did this, FUCK YOU!” He punched again, kicking up bits of tarmac and gravel with his fist. Again, and again, until his arm went limp. “I will find you,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and shaky. “I swear, I will find you, and I will end you!”

Malik knelt down next to him, but he hardly registered that through the haze of pain. “I will find you,” he said again. “I will find you. I swear, I will find you, and I will make you pay.”

He fell forward but caught himself with his hands, fingers digging into the dirt. But it was of no use. Nothing was of any use. It was all for nothing.

“Jensen.” Malik’s voice was unsteady. “Come on. Get up. We need to get back to Detroit to see this through.”

Adam shook his head, and watched small droplets land on the tarmac. “Sarif was right,” he said in a suffocated whisper. God, he had never in his life sounded so weak. He had never felt so weak. “Sarif was right. What’s the point? He’s gone, Malik. He’s gone, and he won’t come back no matter what I do.”

“You’re right, he’s gone.” Malik tugged at his arm. “But that doesn’t mean the people who did this should get away with it.”

Adam could only shake his head.

“Come on,” Malik said again, firmer this time. “This isn’t the place or the time. You can have a good cry in the bird on our way home.”

Adam stared at the small dark spots on the tarmac under him. But bawling would get him absolutely nowhere and wouldn’t change a fucking thing.

“Adam.” Malik moved closer and slung both arms around his shoulders before leaning her forehead against his temple. “I know how you feel, though I also know this doesn’t make you feel any less like shit. When Evelyn died I was shattered. She was my best friend, she was like a sister, and I was a little bit in love with her. I know how fucking hard this is, to pick up the pieces and go on without him. But you have to.”

“I’m not… I wasn’t...” Adam swallowed, a lump in his throat that had the size of a brick.

“You have to,” Malik said again, her voice gentle in his ear, and then she leaned back. “For him. And for yourself. Nothing will bring him back, but you have to do what you need to do to be able to make your peace with that. So get up, Jensen, and find the one who did this.”

Adam took a few deep breath, but he still felt terrifyingly fragile. He lifted his head, and finally managed to look at Malik. Her eyes were wet as well.

“I’ll help you,” she said then. “You helped me find justice for Evelyn. And for what it’s worth, whatever it is I can do, I’ll help you find justice for Frank.”

“I miss him,” Adam heard himself say, in a voice he could hardly recognise. It wasn’t what he had wanted to say, but his mouth had made the decision without consulting with his brain.

“I miss him too, believe it or not,” Malik replied, smiling at him through her tears. “It’s just not the same without that snarky asshole.” Then she let go of him and got onto her feet. “Come on, spy-boy. You have a murderer to catch.”

Adam nodded slowly, and laboured to his feet. They headed back to the VTOL in silence, and Adam fell into the seat, feeling cold and somewhat detached from his own body.

_“Just cry if you need to,”_ Malik said through the intercom after take-off. _“I’m not going to listen in. There’s a box with supplies under your seat, should be some paper towels in there.”_

“Thanks, fly-girl,” Adam muttered, his voice still clogged.

He didn’t cry, not as such, but occasionally a tear would break free and he wiped it from his cheek. He didn’t, he couldn’t understand why it had taken this long for it to hurt that much.

* * *

Adam had managed to pull himself together until they had reached Detroit, and with his reddened eyes hidden behind his shades he approached the precinct for the second time. This time he approached Captain Penn directly. But he was in for another surprise.

Penn hadn’t ordered the specialists. He had been informed that the coroner had done it.

The coroner, however, had been told that Penn had ordered the Bostonians in.

“We’ll have to analyse the security footage,” Penn said to Adam after all three of them had wrapped their head around this. “Those people will have to be identified.”

“And the body?” Adam asked.

Penn sighed. “Given the circumstances we have to exhume and do another autopsy. We’ll start on the process, but it will take a few days, probably.”

“Let me know as soon as you find something,” Adam said, unable to uncurl his fists.

“Sure.” Penn was still under influence of the CASIE pheromones, and more than willing to comply. “You’ll be the first to get the results.”

Adam nodded, and made his way back to Sarif Industries. It was already late, but he needed to talk to Sarif.

Sarif was as baffled as Penn and the coroner had been upon hearing that the specialists from Boston had been, in fact, not from Boston, and had not been called in by anyone in Detroit.

“So Frank really was… murdered?” Sarif asked, his voice trembling.

“It’s the only explanation after what I found out today,” Adam replied. “And I will find the one who did this.”

Sarif nodded with a heavy sigh. “I hope it will help you make your peace with his death, Adam.”

“So do I, boss.” Adam didn’t look at him. “So do I.”

He didn’t know if he ever would. But he knew that he never would if he did nothing now.

* * *

Hacking through a firewall he had created himself should be a piece of cake, if not for the fact that it had been Frank Pritchard who had built the thing. Even he himself had difficulties getting anywhere. So far however, with some luck and hard work, he kept finding loopholes that he could use. But since he had no actual desire to do the actual hacking he made one faked attempt after the other, set off the alarms every time, and then made sure to cover his tracks properly.

He had set his plan in motion, and he was sweating bullets every time he took another step, but so far Jonas had not detected him. Of course, it was entirely possible that he already knew what Frank was doing, and just enjoyed playing cat and mouse. It was a risk Frank had to take.

After yet another a hasty retreat Frank sat down again with his coffee and kept staring at his screen as Jonas entered the room.

“Still nothing?”

Frank shook his head. “I have to beat myself at my own game. Sometimes I think I’ll have to wait until my successor makes a mistake in maintenance, or botches fixing something, before I can make a move.”

“That might take a while,” Jonas said and leaned across the desk to look at the screen, one hand propped up next to the keyboard, the other on the back of Frank’s chair.

Frank hadn’t been this close to him since before they had been arrested, and he was surprised how revolting he found the sensation. He forced himself to stay calm, and took a sip of his coffee.

“You’re really doing your best, Snake. I can see that.”

“It’s not as if I have a choice,” Frank replied. But then he took a deep breath and swivelled in his chair to look at Jonas, who straightened up. “What happens to me after I get the blueprints? I’m dead meat, aren’t I?”

Jonas shrugged, and shook his head with a very unhappy frown. “I don’t want to do that, you know. But I cant risk you here for longer than necessary. You’re clever, but that’s also the problem. It’s possible you are too clever and become a threat.”

Frank looked into his cup, and had no idea what to reply.

“Snake.” Jonas voice was gentle, and Frank forced himself to look up.

He recognised that smile. It was the smile of the man he had fallen in love with. But those feelings were gone. They weren’t even buried. They had turned to ashes in the wind a long time ago.

“I wish I could keep you here, with me. Like the old times. You, and me.”

“And your army,” Frank replied drily. “But you can’t trust me as long as I’ve got this thing in my brain.”

Jonas shook his head, and his sadness looked real. “No, and I can’t trust you without that thing either. I don’t know what to do, Frank.”

“Neither do I,” Frank replied, and added, because it was nothing but the blank truth, “but I don’t want to die here.”

“I don’t want you to die either,” Jonas replied and reached for Frank’s hand.

Frank suppressed a shudder and let him take it. Maybe this was the way out. Maybe pretending that he remembered the feelings he once had would at least buy him enough time.

And then what? They might be found out again. They might be arrested again. And nothing and no one, not even Sarif, could help him any more if he got caught with Jonas again. He would be a repeat offender, together with his former partner in crime, no less. There wasn’t a chance in hell anyone would believe him when he said he’d only done it to survive. Jensen maybe, and Sarif. But that was about it.

He would end up in jail again. And he’d rather die than let that happen. But for now, he let Jonas hold his hand, and he met his eyes, because this could buy him the time he needed.

“Remember, Snake? Remember how good life was, back then?”

Jonas’ voice was so gentle, his eyes so soft. And yes, Frank did remember. He remembered how good it had felt. But that didn’t mean he wanted to go back there.

“I do remember,” he said, instead of hissing at him to take his hands off him and fuck off. “But you can’t turn back time.”

“You can’t,” Jonas whispered, his thumb caressing the back of Frank’s hand.

The thought of kissing Jonas again was revolting. He might have to, but that only meant he needed to work harder on getting out of here. For a moment his thoughts derailed, when he tried to stop thinking about having to kiss Jonas, and out of the blue he was suddenly thinking about a kiss of different lips surrounded by the soft scratch of a beard.

He had to force his mind back into the here and now. He needed to postpone the escapism for when he was alone.

“This is the worst idea you ever had, Spider,” he said, and pulled his hand away, making sure he did it slowly.

Jonas sighed, shook his head with a sad smile, and left again.

Of course, there as always a chance it was an act on Jonas’ side as well, to test him, to probe for any weakness. There was a real chance that giving in might be the worst thing he could do.

Frank was aware that he was dancing on a razor’s edge. But what he also knew, beyond doubt, was that if he came to the point where he would have to choose between being put to death or risk being arrested… he would not go to prison a second time.


	7. Chapter 7

Adam was restless and irritable during the days after Boston. A thousand scenarios played through his mind, and none of them was anything he could stand to have in his head. The fact that Pritchard hadn’t died of an accident was bad enough. What his mind supplied him with, with ample source for imagination, were scenarios of how he might have died.

Had he seen it coming? Or had he been taken completely unawares? Had it been a bullet, or a knife? A blunt object? Had he been strangled? Had he fought? Had he tried to call for help? Had he tried to call for him, too slow, too late to use the infolink after being attacked in his sleep?

Those thoughts drove Adam up the wall. Thinking of Pritchard fighting for his life, alone, afraid, terrified, suffering… It made Adam so unbelievable furious, so unbearable frustrated. He didn’t want to think of Pritchard struggling, trying to call for him, but his mind didn’t give him any rest.

He couldn’t remember when he last had slept more than an hour without being woken up by dreams, if he even managed more than a shallow doze haunted by images. Pritchard’s face. His voice. His long, elegant fingers dancing over a keyboard. And those fingers, burnt to the bones, hanging out of a bed that was nothing more than coal and ash.

Adam buried his face into the sheet and pulled the pillow over his head, although there was no one here to hear him scream his helpless fury into the mattress.

* * *

Almost a week had passed after Boston when Adam finally had a mail from Captain Penn in his inbox. Memories of old nerves long gone fired helplessly into his brain; his hands would have been shaking if not for the fact that they couldn’t.

_Supplementary examination of the remains of Francis Wendell Pritchard, born 06/24/1991, deceased 03/03/2028_

_Summary_

_Cause of death: Bullet wound at the back of the cranium, fired at close range. Calibre 10 mm._

_Time of death: Due to the severity of fire damage, time of death can only be approximated between 02/27/2028 and 03/03/2028._

_Toxicological analysis of remaining tissue rendered impossible due to the severity of fire damage._

_Comparison of the medical records of Francis Wendell Pritchard with the human remains found in his apartment 03/03/2028._

_• Fracture of humerus, age six: negative_   
_• Dental implant of the left upper canine, age 29: negative_   
_• Surgically restored fractured nasal bone, age 29: negative_   
_• Cranial augmentations (6), implanted, age 29: remains of cranial implants present, number and intended purpose unidentifiable. Incision at the left side of the cranium with no signs of regeneration indicates postmortem insertion._

_Genetical analysis: Extracted DNA highly degraded due to the severity of fire damage, attempted amplification of genetic markers impossible._

_Bone structure analysis: Deceased classified as male, age 20-25._

_Dental structure analysis: Deceased grew up in the region of Northern Michigan._

_Likelihood of deceased being Francis Wendell Pritchard: 0%._

_Coroners: Dr Dominic Chapman, Dr Logan Fernandez_

Adam’s head was spinning, and only very slowly came to a halt again. That body, the body Adam had helped put into a grave… it wasn’t Pritchard.

Adam felt his world lurch and had to grip the edge of his desk because he had the feeling he would fall out of his chair any moment. Because if this body wasn’t Pritchard… then he was still alive. Alive, somewhere, being held against his will.

He took another deep breath, pushed himself out of his chair, and left his office in a run. He dashed down the stairs, rounded the corner, and raced towards the open Tech Lab.

“There he is again, that fucker!” Buckner yelled as Adam stumbled through the door.

“Excuse me?”

Buckner almost jumped out of his chair. “Fuck! Not you, Jensen! I have a hacker here, for the third time today.”

“Can you get rid of him? Because there is something I need you to do, now.”

“Give me a moment.”

Adam was on tenterhooks, pacing up and down the empty space in front of the sofa where the VR bike used to be. It seemed to take forever and a day until Buckner leaned back. “Stupid idiot.” Then he looked up. “About that Williams slash Anderson guy, I couldn’t find anything yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Adam was at the desk in an instant. “I need you to find Pritchard’s GPL implant.”

Buckner leaned forward, his eyes widening, and he blinked once, like an owl. “What?”

“You heard me. I just got the second autopsy report. The so called specialist team from Boston were impostors, and the DPD had the body exhumed. It’s not Pritchard. He’s not dead, and you have to find him.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Buckner muttered, and immediately opened another window on his screen. But then he shook his head. “No signal, Jensen. Sorry.”

“Switch to another frequency. Pritchard did that when we were looking for the scientists that had been abducted last year. There have to be records of how he did it.”

“Right.” Buckner stared at his screen, busily typing away. “Do you know when that was? Could save me a lot of time.”

“September, October, can’t remember exactly.”

“Yeah, that helps.” He busied himself with his screen for a moment. “But Jensen…” He said then, hesitantly. “I get that the body isn’t his, but what makes you so sure he’s still alive?”

“Why would someone put a false body into place if not to hide the fact he’s gone instead of being dead?”

“To make sure no one would look for him,” Buckner replied slowly after a moment, and then shook his head. “This is going to take me a while. So… please, if you wouldn’t mind taking your tiger-in-a-cage pacing elsewhere? You’re making me nervous.”

Adam exhaled heavily through his nose, but he couldn’t blame Buckner because he knew how imitating he could be when agitated. So he left the Tech Lab again and headed towards the cafeteria to get himself a coffee, but halfway through he changed his mind and took the elevator instead.

“Boss?”

“Adam!” But after looking up, Sarif frowned and got up. “What happened?”

“I got the new autopsy report,” Adam said, unable to keep his voice calm. “It’s not Pritchard.”

Dumbstruck, Sarif stared at him for a long moment. “Adam…”

“We have to find him, boss. He’s out there somewhere. Buckner is looking for his GPL right now. It didn’t show up, but I asked him to do what Pritchard did back then and look on other frequencies.”

“Adam…” Sarif walked around the desk. “Have you considered that…”

“That he might be dead anyway? I did. But why would someone put the wrong body into his bed if not to hide the fact he’s gone, and not dead? Someone made sure we wouldn’t come looking for him.”

“You’re right, that doesn’t make sense. But how are we going to find him?”

“I don’t know. We just have to figure something out.”

“Keep me informed. Do what you can to find him.”

“I wasn’t planning on stopping.” Adam pressed his lips together. “What happens when I find him? What happens with his job, and everything?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Adam. You have to find him first.”

“I will.” It wasn’t a maybe. It wasn’t a hope. He would find him. Anything else wasn’t an option.

He headed back to the elevator, and on his way to the Tech Lab he ran into Annie Thorpe again who was carrying two cups of coffee.

“Intern duties?” he asked, looking at the coffee.

She rolled her eyes. “Sn- Pritchard always said interns are here to learn, not to make coffee, but he was… more or less the only one who said that.”

“Have you talked to Buckner yet?”

“No. Why?”

Adam swallowed. “I’ll tell you in the Tech Lab.”

She frowned at him, but didn’t ask any more questions.

Buckner looked up as they entered the Tech Lab, and he frowned at Annie as she handed him the coffee. “About time.”

“Buckner.” Adam crossed his arms. “Interns are not waiters, so don’t treat them like that.” Adam gave himself a moment to wonder if it was the fact she had been Pritchard’s friend that made him feel so protective. Scratch that, she was Pritchard’s friend, still, because Pritchard was alive. That didn’t make him feel any less protective, though.

Buckner looked up, cleared his throat, and took a sip of coffee. “So,” he said then. “I tried, Jensen. Pritchard wrote a piece of software that did the frequency jumping autonomously. I ran it twice. No signal. Sorry. I can’t find him.”

“Find… who?” Thorpe asked, looking back and forth between Adam and Buckner.

“Annie…” Adam took a deep breath. “Sorry, can I call you that? You can call me Adam if you want to.” Really protective. He pushed that thought aside.

“Sure,” Annie replied, and bit her lower lip.

Adam took another deep breath, and proceeded to tell her about the special team from Boston that wasn’t one, and the second autopsy.

Annie stared at him open-mouthed and with wide eyes. “But… but that means… that means Snake is still alive!”

“Snake?” Buckner asked. “You two been on friendly terms?”

Adam thrust out a warning forefinger at him. “Buckner, if you suggest Pritchard would have an affair with an intern, then I suggest you re-evaluate your life choices because I won’t tolerate that kind of slander, no matter if he’s dead or alive or gone back to blackhat work. Are we clear?”

Buckner swallowed and cowered back a little. “Clear as rain.”

Adam gave him another glare, and didn’t have to make much of an effort to look even more intimidating and threatening. He didn’t have the patience to deal with bullshit like this right now.

Pritchard was out there somewhere, and he had no idea how to find him.

All three of them stood in silence until Buckner’s computer suddenly blared out a high-pitched alarm.

“Here we go again.” Buckner leaned forward. “Can’t believe I keep having to do this.”

“Do what?” Annie asked and walked around the desk to look at the screen. Buckner glared at her, but she looked him straight in the face with narrowed eyes. “Intern, remember? I’m supposed to learn something.”

“Right,” Buckner asked after a short glance at Adam. “I have a hacker here who has been bugging me for over two weeks now. But the thing is, he’s an idiot, I don’t know how to… He always, always finds some loophole into the system and what does he do? Hacks into the intellicam software. And then he’s gone again, without a trace.” He grunted in frustration. “It’s like the jerk is playing ding-dong-ditch with me!”

Annie looked at the screen. “That’s weird.”

“Yeah, I know. There isn’t any rhyme or reason to this. Sometimes he attacks several times a day, sometimes I don’t see a hair of him for a day or three. He sets off one of the alarms every time, and then he fucks off. I’d say he’s absolutely pathetic at hacking, but he does get through the firewall every time. And I can’t trace him for the life of me.”

Adam had remained where he was, because he had no idea what else to do. He was biding his time for now, waiting for Buckner to get rid of the hacker again, to see what might be done about Pritchard. CCTV coverage, probably. Maybe some camera in the neighbourhood had caught something. Anything.

“Dammit! He’s gone again!” Buckner shook his head in frustration. “And he’s been shitting on the doorstep, too. Again.”

“Shitting… on the doorstep?” Adam asked, stepping closer to the desk.

“I don’t know what else to call it,” Buckner replied. “Every time when he’s gone and I go to fix the damage, I find a small chunk of binary shoehorned into the source code of the software that coordinates the intellicams.”

“Binary?” Annie asked, and leaned forward to look at the screen. “What does it say?”

“Nothing.” Buckner shook his head. “Just gibberish.”

Annie bit her lower lip. “But you saved those chunks, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” Buckner gave back sharply. “But it doesn’t make sense!”

“And if you try to translate the whole text?”

“Even more gibberish, Thorpe. What am I? A Karen with an adult evening course in PC for Dummies?”

Annie leaned back and crossed her arms. “I was operating the routine of ‘two pairs of eyes see more than one’. Sorry for wanting to help.”

“Buckner,” Adam interjected before he could say something. “We don’t have time for this. That’s something you can give to the intern. Annie can work on that puzzle, and we work on finding Pritchard.”

“Fine.” Buckner opened a few folders. “Here. I shoved the whole mess into your drive.”

“Right. I’m gonna look at it.” She got up and left, but came back a few moments later with her tablet.

“Maybe I can help,” she said, half-apologetic. “I don’t know how, but...”

Adam could sympathise. She wanted to help find Pritchard, but at this point she couldn’t do anything. But there was no harm in her being here, she wasn’t in the way, so he nodded. Annie saw down cross-legged on the sofa and focused on her tablet. She looked at the screen with a deep frown of concentration.

“Can you translate binary in your head?” Buckner asked with a sour note to his voice.

“I can’t,” Annie replied. “I’m trying to find a pattern….”

“Buckner,” Adam said. “This is more important than a four chan jerk who hacks into your system for shits and giggles. I get that this bugs you and your pride, but let the intern deal with that for now.”

Buckner rolled his eyes but turned towards his own screen again. “What did you have in mind, Jensen?”

“CCTV footage, to start with. There have to be cameras in that neighbourhood.”

“Right. Do you know when he left the building?”

Adam shook his head. “You have to pull that up from the system.”

Buckner nodded and set to work. “He left not long after six,” he said. “Six twenty-two, to be precise.”

“And I know he took the subway because he complained about not being able to take his bike because of the weather,” Adam replied.

Buckner pulled up his address and accessed the CCTV footage of the nearest subway station. Adam felt a little shudder creep down his spine when the figure he could so easily recognise appeared on the grainy, monochrome video.

“There he is, leaving the station.” Adam’s eyes were glued to Pritchard’s back.

“He’s walking past the bus stop, so he decided to take that… what is it?” Buckner pulled up a map of Detroit. “I’d say ten, fifteen minute walk.”

“Find the nearest camera in that neighbourhood.”

“On it.”

Buckner typed busily away, and Adam looked up for a moment at Annie who was still staring at the tablet with narrowed eyes.

“Any luck?”

“Not really.” Annie looked up and shook her head. “The only thing I figured out is that every chunk Buckner found is twenty digits long, and that there’s only twenty chunks in all, in the same order, before it starts all over again.”

“So it has to mean something,” Adam said thoughtfully, and glanced at Buckner again who was still busy looking for the cameras.

“I’ve run everything through a translation engine, like, six or seven times now, using a different encoding every time.” Annie dug her fingers into her hair. “I mean, someone could be doing this just for the lols, or as a dare. There is no logical explanation for someone sneaking through a corporate firewall, and then do nothing but drop a line of binary that does absolutely nothing into the source code of a software that’s not really important. I thought it would say something like ‘pwned’ or ‘trolled’, but it doesn’t.”

Adam looked at Buckner who was still searching for the cameras, and walked towards the sofa so he wouldn’t keep staring at Buckner and make him any more nervous than he already was.

Annie pointed at the screen. “So there’s twenty lines of binary that is complete nonsense. Twenty lines of twenty digits each.”

Adam stepped around the sofa and looked at the screen of her tablet, and at the blocks of zeros and ones.

11000 11111 11111 00011  
10001 11111 11111 10001  
00011 11100 00111 11000  
00111 10000 00001 11100  
01111 00111 11100 11110

11110 01111 11110 01111  
11100 11111 11111 00111  
11001 11100 01111 10011  
11011 11000 00111 10011  
11011 10001 11111 10011

11011 10011 01111 00111  
11011 10011 11111 00111  
11011 11000 11110 01110  
11001 11100 00000 11110  
11100 11111 11111 11100

11110 01111 11111 11010  
01111 00111 11111 10110  
00111 10000 00000 01110  
10011 11111 11111 11101  
11001 11111 11111 11011

“And I ran that through a translation engine,” Annie said, and pointed at the text field of the translation engine.

“I see what Buckner meant with gibberish,” Adam said.

The translated text read:

> **Çþ8ÿñ##�À <yùï?Ïçþ|ñóÞ#=ÇóÜÞ}ÏçÞ<ìð#çÿÏ?úyÿcÀ#�ÿÜÿû**

“That’s… not even a known language,” he said, unnecessarily.

“Buckner, have you tried columns?” Annie asked.

“Stop bothering me with that crap, Thorpe! No I didn’t!”

Annie side-eyed him and entered the digits of the first column into the translation engine.

> **Çÿ**

Annie huffed in frustration and leaned back, crossing her arms.

“Jensen!”

Adam hurried back towards the desk and looked at Buckner’s screen.

“Look what I found.” Buckner sounded very pleased with himself. “There’s a CCTV camera installed by the real estate company who owns that building block. It observes the yard in front of the main entrance, and there’s another at the back door.”

Buckner started the feed dated 02/03/2028, and after they had watched Pritchard leave the house he fast-forwarded until the time stamp was at 6:20 pm. Not two minutes later the feed blacked out.

“Fuck,” Adam growled. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

The camera feed came back to life at time stamp 10:24 pm.

“Do you…”

“Want to watch until the fire starts?” Adam asked, and sighed. “No. But I’m going to anyway.” Nothing happened, until time stamp 2:49 am. A flicker appeared behind a window, and Adam watched the fire grow, then burst through the window. “Speed it up.”

The flames licked at the window and the wall now, and moments later the fire department arrived. The fire was put out, the police arrived, and Adam gritted his teeth in frustration. “Cut it.”

“Let’s look at the back door,” Buckner said as he accessed the other camera.

Unsurprisingly the feed of the backyard camera was corrupted as well.

“That’s definitely no coincidence.” Buckner shook his head. “Just the time he would have come home.”

“And for someone else to come in as well, and take him out.” Adam stared at the screen as if he could will it to spill the camera’s secrets. “Someone hacked into those cameras so there would be no proof that Pritchard was never in his apartment that night.”

“But that doesn’t get us anywhere, does it?” Buckner asked.

Adam ran both hands through his hair. “The body isn’t Pritchard’s, and someone went to a great length to make sure no one could prove Pritchard didn't come home that night.”

“Sounds like a good cover up for a disappearance,” Buckner said thoughtfully. “Make it look like an accident that no one questions. Low risk anyone would ever check the surveillance cameras. So that’s definitely indication that he’s been kidnapped. But there aren’t any cameras between the station and that apartment building, I checked. We hit a dead end.”

“There has to be something. Anything!” Adam wanted to punch something. Pritchard was out there somewhere, he was dead sure of that. But whoever had him was clever, and resourceful.

“Huh,” Annie said from the sofa. “That’s weird...”

“Spare us the script kiddie puzzle, Thorpe,” Buckner said and dragged both hands down his face. “We got other things to worry about here!”

“Sorry! I just thought I found a pattern. Don’t mind me.”

Adam and Buckner stared at Buckner’s screen in helpless frustration.

On the sofa, Annie suddenly jolted upright with a gasp. “Shit…”

“What now,” Buckner said and rolled his eyes.

“Jen… Adam? I think…” Annie looked up at them, her eyes almost impossible white. “I think it’s him! The hacker!”

“Who?” Buckner asked.

“Pritchard!”

“What?” Adam reached her side in two long steps. “Where? How?”

“The binary,” Annie said breathlessly, her voice stumbling faster and faster. “I thought I saw a pattern, and then I converted it into a bitmap, twenty times twenty pixels, with white pixels for the zeros and black pixels for the ones and-”

“Get to the point!” Adam barked, and curled his hands when she flinched. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Go on.”

Annie handed him the tablet. By now Buckner had reached them as well.

“What bullshit is this?” Buckner asked as he stared at the tiny black and white image.

“Looks like an ‘at’ to me,” Adam said, tilting his head. “And then again, it doesn’t.”

Annie stared at them with her mouth hanging open. “You don’t see it?”

“See what?” Buckner asked.

Annie took the tablet back and magnified the picture. Then she wordlessly handed it back, but her hands were shaking.

“What the fuck is that?” Buckner asked.

“It’s a snake!” Annie said, her voice trembling. “A snake! Pritchard did this! It’s him! He dropped the binary, and in chunks that didn’t make sense on their own! God…”

With every hair on his body standing on edge Adam stared at the tablet. “A snake, huh?” He shook his head with an incredulous chuckle. “Pritchard, you brilliant little bastard.”

“Brilliant idea, yeah, but his hopes of someone figuring this one out have to as thin as a thread,” Buckner said, crossing his arms. “He’s been doing that for over two weeks. Not sure I wouldn’t have given up by now.”

“He’s… he’s really alive,” Annie whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “God, he’s really alive.”

“Sarif.” Adam had to force himself not to yell into the infolink. “We found him. Sort of.”

_“Sort of?”_

“Pritchard. He sent us a message.”

_“God… Adam… are you sure?”_

“As sure as I can be,” Adam replied.

 _“Don’t do anything yet, Adam. I’m my way down there,”_ Sarif said and cut the call.

All three of them kept staring at the screen until Sarif entered the Tech Lab.

“What is going on?”

“The hacker I’ve been dealing with the last weeks,” Buckner explained hastily. “He kept slipping through loopholes but never did anything else than hack into the security camera software, where he corrupted the source code with a chunk of binary that I had to clean up. And that’s it. And he was always too fast in retreating so I couldn’t trace him.”

“Twenty different bits of binary, with twenty digits each,” Adam added. “Annie decoded that, it wasn’t text, but a picture.”

“A picture?” Sarif said, and took the tablet Adam handed him.

He stared at the snake for a good long moment before he shook his head.

“And are you sure it’s him?”

“Who else would it be, boss?” Adam had to force himself not to yell. “A snake. Nuclear snake. His online handle. And who else would be smart enough to come up with something like this?”

“It’s… I see that. But why would he do that?”

“Because he knows his GPL is gone and we can’t track him. Because he’s being held somewhere, forced to hack into the firewall he created, and he doesn’t know where he is. And obviously, he just can’t pick up a phone and call me.”

“And the infolink?”

Adam shrugged with a shake of his head. “Can be jammed. Can even be deactivated. Fact is that the hacker attacks were no attacks. They were… like a letter wrapped around a stone thrown through the window. It’s him, Sarif, don’t you see? There’s no other explanation. He wants us to know he’s out there. So now it’s up to us to find him.”

“And how are we going to find him without his GPL?” Sarif asked. “If Buckner can’t trace him, how do we know where he is?”

“We have to let him know we got his message,” Annie said, staring at the tablet, and the image. “And then take it from there. Maybe once he knows that we know, he can somehow… give us more to work with.”

“But how?” Buckner asked helplessly. “How are we going to do that? If he’s forced to send this kind of message, encoded and chopped to bits and everything, then we can’t just… I don’t know.”

Annie was chewing her lower lip again. “He’s trying to get in, but he’s not really trying, is he?” She looked up at Sarif, Adam, and Buckner. “He built really solid defences, but if there’s anyone who could get through after all this time, it would be him.” Then she snapped her fingers, and her face lit up. “That’s why he dropped this into the surveillance camera software! He doesn’t want to do any damage! He wants us to see him!”

“And again, how are we going to reply?” Sarif asked.

“We could…” Annie took a deep breath and swallowed. “We could let him in.”

“And then?” Sarif crossed his arms. “You can’t just open a window in this thing, can you? After the thing with Radford, Frank made sure no one can create any openings any more. We can’t just take down the whole firewall and every other defence we have for god knows how long.”

“Maybe…” Annie looked at the screen again. “Just… deactivate the protocols for the detection software, and deactivate the alarm for a certain server. Just for one server. He will notice that. He will see that gaping loophole in the firewall, and know it for what it is.”

“Isn’t deactivating the detection software a risk?” Sarif frowned at her.

“It is.” Annie shrugged. “I don’t have a better idea.”

“We can do this,” Buckner said then. “I can run detection checks manually, every ten minutes if I have to. I will only have to do it until Pritchard has seen our message and has gotten back to us. Then I’ll put up the full defence protocol again.”

“Right.” Sarif nodded. “If he is clever enough to send a message like that, he’s clever enough to get our reply. Do it.”

* * *

Frank had known from the beginning that this might happen, but it still didn’t make it any easier.

Jonas had made one pass after the other, and by now Frank didn’t know any more how he could keep him away without making him angry. He had wasted too much time, he had been leading him on, and now Jonas believed Frank was on his way back to him, that the feelings he once had were returning.

But he didn’t want to kiss Jonas. He wanted to end up in bed with him even less.

Frank buried his face into his pillow. He just wanted to go home, like a little boy lost in the forest, but he didn’t have a home any more because he was dead and everything was gone. And after so many weeks and so many attempts, he was losing hope. He had known from the beginning that this might be a hopeless undertaking. After all, even if they got his message, how would they respond? Relying on other people’s cleverness? Even if they understood, without his GPL they could do nothing, and the only alternative was not covering his tracks, which was a risk he wasn’t sure he was willing to take. He was so, so fucked.

He tried not to think of Jonas. Tried not to think of how good it had felt back then, and how revolting it would feel now. There had been a time in his life, long ago, when there was no place he’d rather have been than in this man’s arms.

Right now, he wished he could throw himself into the sun to escape that touch.

It came out of the blue. A futile, stupid wish for someone just embracing him, holding him, telling him it would be okay.

And that voice… he knew that voice. He knew that low, gravelly mutter, and he knew without knowing how he knew that those arms that held him were not made of flesh and bone and skin.

Frank threw himself onto his back. Tears spilled over and ran down his temples, vanishing into his hair. Thinking about kissing Jensen, now fantasising about finding himself in that man’s embrace. Wanting to hear that voice. He didn’t even know why he was thinking about it now. He had been thinking about it, before. Sometimes. During lonely moments, during moments when he admitted to himself how god-damn attractive that man was. More so, when he thought he had lost him in Panchaea.

He really should have made a move that evening in the Vertigo.

But right now, all he wanted was for Jensen to come in through that door; he could carry Frank out bridal style for all he cared, with all the knight-in-shining-armour routine he wanted to pull off. Frank just wanted to get out of here... and on his own, he couldn’t.

_It’s going to be okay, Pritchard. I’ll get you out of there._

But that wouldn’t happen. Frank was running out of time. Even if he let Jonas fuck him every night he would not get out of here, he would never see Detroit or Jensen again, or anyone else but Jonas and his goons who brought him his supplies.

He turned onto his stomach again and buried his face into his pillow again. “God, Jensen… please, get me out of here…”

But Jensen wasn’t here. He wouldn’t come. Jensen would never hold him, never kiss him, and Frank could fantasize about this all he wanted because it didn’t matter any more. He was on his own, and he was a dead man walking.

Frank didn’t sleep that night, and he dragged himself out of his bed the next morning with a headache. He poured a coffee down his throat, and another, and with the third one he sat down at his desk.

Another meaningless day, another meaningless attack. He might as well give in, and stop trying to postpone the inevitable. Get Jonas those blueprints, and sweet fuck all. He’d be dead half an hour later, tops.

Frank was tired of fighting.

_Do you really want to die in this place?_

The memory of these words rang in his ears.

No, he had not wanted to die in that fucking jail, and hearing his cellmate ask that question somehow enabled him to find a shred of strength he had no idea he still possessed. He had been able to hang on; by the skin of his teeth, but he had made it through.

And he didn’t want to die now either. He did not want to die at all, least of all in this godforsaken windowless basement. He would get out of here, and first opportunity he would hit on Jensen like a hammer and devil-may-care about whatever happened then.

He took a few moments to gather what little concentration he had, to have another go at the Sarif Industries firewall again.

Frank rolled his shoulders and set to work, but was brought up short almost as soon as he had started. There was a hole. A loophole of a size that couldn’t be called a hole any more, it was a fucking stargate.

“You bloody amateur,” Frank said to his successor. “You fucking, incompetent idiot.”

Frank slipped through the gap like quicksilver. He paused, but no alarms went off. And he began to get the suspicion that this was too easy. Something was wrong. It seemed like the detection software wasn’t running, but that could not, should not be possible.

Frank himself would have been able to yeet any intruder right back through the firewall with a tracker glued to his ass. Questionable if someone who allowed that kind of failure would be capable of the same, but he refused to let his guard down. It still could be a trap. One of the servers lay unprotected out in the ether like an apple ripe for the picking. It had to be a trap.

It wasn’t.

Frank stared at the screen with parted lips, at the server, freely accessible, without any protection, and he felt his eyes fill with tears. It was the server with the data of the ocular and retinal implants. Artificial eyes.

They had replied to his message.

_We see you._


	8. Chapter 8

Adam had pulled more than one all-nighter in his life, and now he equipped himself with coffee and the bottle of caffeine pills he had salvaged from Pritchard’s desk, since Buckner didn’t want them.

Buckner and Annie were taking shifts, with one of them on the wall, so to speak, and the other resting or napping on the sofa. Adam had helped himself to a desk chair from the nearest office, and sat there, waiting. He couldn’t remember ever having been this tense and anxious before.

Eight o’clock came around, and now Buckner was at the screen while Annie was curled up on the sofa with a quilt she had brought with her. She wasn’t asleep; her eyes were open, but she wasn’t fully awake either.

“There he is again,” Buckner suddenly said. “He’s here!”

Annie almost fell out of the sofa in her haste to get up; her legs got tangled in the quilt, and Adam caught her barely in time. He gave her a nudge to righten her up, and followed her towards the desk.

“Just as ever,” Buckner said. “Here is is, prodding at the firewall.” A pause. “And… yep. Source code of the intellicam software has been corrupted.” Buckner leaned back and crossed his arms.

“Binary?” Annie asked.

“Yep, but only one eight-digit piece. Zero, zero, six times one.”

“Zero, zero, six times one.” Annie had already grabbed her tablet that was lying next to the screen. A puzzled frown appeared on her face. “It’s a question mark.”

“Because he doesn’t know where he is,” Adam said. “It’s up to us. He can’t help us.”

Buckner pulled up closer to the desk, and leaned a little forward.

“I’ve set off the alarm manually,” he said. “And there he goes again.”

“Can you trace him?” Adam asked.

“I never can,” Buckner said, slightly sour and with a wry, mirthless smile.

“Try.”

Buckner started typing, and then his eyes began to dart across the screen faster and faster. “He’s gone, but…”

“But?” Adam rounded the screen. “But what?”

“He didn’t… wipe his trail. I can still pick up… there. Again.”

“What?” Adam crossed his arms to keep himself from throttling Bruckner in his chair.

But now Buckner looked up at him. “He’s leaving us bread crumbs.”

“So you can trace him now?”

“Obviously. He knows we’ve seen him, he told us he has no clue where he is, and now he’s leading us right to his doorstep. All we need is a little patience.”

Adam walked away from the desk again. “Malik.”

_“Online and half-awake.”_

“Did you pull an all-nighter too?”

_“Slept in my office, but that didn’t work so well. I’m just fuelling up on caffeine.”_

“Good. Get the bird ready. Pritchard was back, and he’s leaving a trail for us to follow.”

 _“Fucking finally.”_ Malik sounded a lot more awake. _“How long until we have coordinates?”_

“I don’t know. I have no idea how these things work.”

_“I’m on my way. I can drink coffee in the cockpit.”_

Adam forcefully kept himself from pacing as he watched the two others stare at the screen of Buckner’s PC. He had to do something or he’d go mad.

“I’m at the helipad,” Adam said. “We’re ready to be in the air as soon we you have something.” He was out of the Tech Lab a second later, and on his way to the helipad in almost a run even though he knew there was no reason yet to hurry at all.

And again, Adam was on tenterhooks. He was hardly able to sit still after he boarded the VTOL, and he kept kneading his fingers as he stared out of the window.

_“Jensen!”_

Adam flinched. He would never get used to another voice in his infolink. Especially one who yelled like that. “Buckner?”

_“Toronto. He’s in Toronto. Transferring the coordinates to Malik now. Buckner out.”_

“Malik, did you get that?” Adam curled both hands into fists. “Toronto.”

 _“I did,”_ Malik replied. _“We’ll be there in less than two hours.”_

 _I’m coming, Pritchard_ , Adam thought. _I’m on my way. I’m going to get you out of there._

* * *

Frank was staring at his screen, hands cold and clammy. He had to slam the door into his pursuer’s face, of course, but he had done it as late as possible. He could only hope now that whoever was his successor at Sarif Industries was able to get the coordinates. Otherwise, they’d have to do it again, and he didn’t know if he had the guts for another attempt. He already risked setting off the alarms in the system here once, just now. Doing so again could mean disaster.

“Detected again, Snake?”

Frank tried to calm his breathing, tried to still his shaky hands. He had gambled sky-high, and he couldn’t allow himself the smallest mistake now.

Jonas wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t frowning either. Frank had no idea what to make of that face, but it worried him. Jonas was holding a sheet of printer paper.

And that scared Frank shitless.

“I knew you’re clever, Frank,” Jonas said slowly, and with every word, Frank felt his heart sink and cold creep into his bones. “But I thought you’re clever enough not to underestimate me.”

He put the sheet onto Frank’s desk, print facing up.

It was the black and white pixelated snake.

“I thought this was a stupid distraction to keep them from coming after your ass, but now you set off the alarm, and I had a closer look at that. Did you really think I’m that stupid?”

“No,” Frank said tonelessly. He had gambled, and he had lost. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“Do you know what you just did?” Jonas asked, his voice low, and calm, and that scared Frank more than any anger or fury could have done. “Do you?”

“Given away your location, I assume.”

“We’re already running emergency relocation. We’ve been compromised before. We have procedures in place, so that’s an inconvenience but it doesn’t worry me too much. What bothers me, Frank, is you.”

Frank had always thought that the moment you knew you had to die you’d be afraid, terrified, that you’d cry and beg for mercy. But he only felt a cold, heavy weight of defeat on his shoulders. It was over. Fear was churning in his guts, but the rest of him felt as if turned to stone.

Jonas took a deep breath and huffed it out with a heavy sigh. “And what do you think happens now?”

“You pull out,” Frank said and forced himself to look up. “And I guess you’ll tie up any loose ends before you fuck off.”

“Frank…” Jonas shook his head. “Why did you have to do that?”

“Did you really expect I’d bend over and take it?” Frank asked.

“So… all the time you looked at me these last few days, when you let me touch you… it was all a lie.”

“It was.” Frank leaned back and crossed his arms. Might as well go out with what dignity was left to him, even though it wouldn't make a difference. There simply was no point in lying any more.

Jonas shook his head. “Have you any idea how much that hurts me?”

“Probably as much as it hurt me when you turned away from me although you could have helped me, and let that asshole Carl use me as a sex toy.”

“Well.” Jonas sighed again. “One way or another, this ends now.” With that he took a step back, and produced the remote.

Now Frank felt his bravado evaporate. He started shaking. “Jonas… please don’t do this...”

A hateful, bitter smirk on his lips, Jonas took a step back. “I want to, believe me. But I’m also kind of angry at myself, that I’ve deluded myself so much. That I really let myself believe we had another chance. That one’s on me. So I’m going to make you an offer.”

And with that, he pulled a pistol out of his back pocket.

“You go back there, Frank. And you break through that firewall, alarms be damned. We’re on our way out, they can trace us all they want. By the time they’re here, we’ll be gone. Get me those blueprints, Frank, and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes instead of using this.” He held up the remote.

Frank was still shaking, but this was the best deal he’d get in what was left of his life. He wiped the tears off his cheeks and turned towards the screen again. Every fibre of his being was screaming and he had no idea why he wasn’t a gibbering mess under his desk right now. “I guess this will take me… half an hour.”

“Strange how I don’t trust you with that.”

Frank swallowed and looked up at him again. “Spider.” He shook his head with a fatalistic sigh, half in acceptance of his defeat, half in terrified denial. “I’d rather have it over quickly than have my brain boiled on slow cooking. I’ll get you those blueprints. Give me half an hour, max.”

“Half an hour, Snake. Any longer, and this deal is off.”

“I hear you,” Frank said, and looked at his screen again. “I’m sorry,” he said to whoever poor bastard now had his job. “This is going to be one hell of a mess to clean up.”

* * *

The alarms going off made both Annie and Bruckner jump. They both simultaneously looked at the screen, and Annie gasped, while Bruckner just muttered ‘shit’ under his breath.

“What is going on with that guy?” Bruckner pulled up to his desk again.

“He’s using a battering ram, by the way that looks. Christ, what is going on there?”

“Shit,” Bruckner said again. “He’s through, and he’s after the classified augmentations… damn. That’s the military equipment they’ve just started testing.”

“What happened,” Annie whispered. “Snake, what the hell happened to you?”

“Fuck if I know,” Buckner muttered, and tried to do damage control.

“Shit,” Annie suddenly said. “Shit, no, fuck no, Buckner, let him! Let him!” She grabbed the office phone and dialled Sarif’s number.

_“What is it, Chris?”_

“Sir, it’s Annie. We’ve having a full frontal attack and-”

_“Calm down, Annie. What’s going on?”_

“Pritchard is back, and he’s going absolutely batshit crazy, blazing through the firewall like a tank! They know!” Annie’s voice pitched higher and higher, and her eyes spilled over, tears running down her cheeks. “They found out what he’s been doing and now they’re forcing him to get what they want no matter what! He’s after the latest military equipment and I know it’s classified but please! We need to let him have them! Adam is on the way, he has the coordinates, he’ll take them back but please! We need to buy him time!”

Sarif too a few heavy breaths. _“That’s a big risk to take, Annie. We don’t know if that is what’s happening.”_

“It is! It can’t be anything else!” Annie sobbed, and shook her head. “Please… please! We need to buy him time until Adam is there!”

_“Hang on. Malik? How close are you to your destination?”_

_“ETA less than ten minutes, boss!”_

_“Annie?”_

“Sir?”

_“Let him have it.”_

“Thank you.”

_“Don’t thank me. Track him, so you can confirm the location.”_

Annie hung up and looked at Buckner. “Let him have those plans,” she said. “Adam will get them back.”

“I’ll let him know.”

* * *

_“Jensen!”_

“Buckner.” Buckner sounded extremely stressed, and that wasn’t good at all for Adam’s nerves at all right now.

_“Pritchard just attacked the firewall like a tank and went at the server with the classified military augmentations guns blazing. We think they found him out and are now forcing the matter, so they can get what they want and pull out. You have to hurry!”_

“Shit. We’re already over the outskirts of Toronto. We only need a few minutes more.”

_“Hurry up, Jensen. For all we know, Pritchard’s life is in more danger now than it ever was!”_

“I figured as much. Jensen out.” Adam gritted his teeth. “Malik! How fast can you make this bird go?”

_“We’re at top speed, Jensen. Technically.”_

“Go faster. Things have gone tits-up down there.”

_“Fuck.”_

Moments later he could feel himself being pressed slightly into his seat as Malik accelerated.

“Just hold on, Pritchard,” Adam muttered, staring out of the window. “I’m almost there.”

* * *

“Half an hour is over, Frank.” Jonas sauntered into the room where Frank was being held. His tomb. He was going to die here.

“Here.” Frank pointed at the flash drive. “Check for yourself.”

He was still terrified, he did not want to die, but that terror sat deep, deep in his bones now, and he felt cold and heavy and tired and he just wanted this to be over. But there was another part, that part that Frank had needed to leash and suppress, back in jail, that part was now rearing its head again. The part that was too stubborn to give in and give up.

But even as he went through several scenarios, there was none where he could reach Jonas in time to prevent him from either pulling the trigger or pressing a button.

Frank looked down, at his shaking hands, and wondered how long he would be able to sit here until he would start begging for mercy he knew he wouldn’t get.

Jonas now walked up to the desk and Frank got up, to let him sit down. And while Jonas now checked the blueprints Frank had downloaded, Frank walked a few steps away from the desk, and then just sank down to the floor.

Terror was still churning in his guts, making his blood run cold and his bones feel like ice. But he also felt tired, so incredibly, indescribably tired. In movies, or TV shows, people like him would maybe asked if they had any last words. Frank tried to ponder that thought, but steeped in bitter regret his brain only threw him a few pictures of Jensen, and refused to engage with anything else but the imminent end of everything.

“Very good, Frank. Well done.” Jonas got up and turned around. “Perfect, and in less than half an hour.” With that, he pulled an EMP grenade out of his pocket and placed it under the desk. He quickly stepped away from it, and moments later the grenade turned the computer into a sizzling mess of burned circuits and dead metal.

Then he looked down at Frank, and Frank looked up.

Frank wanted to say something like asking Jonas not to drag this out any longer, to just get it over with. What came out of his mouth when he opened it, however, was, “I don’t want to die, Jonas…” His vision blurred, and tears tickled his cheeks.

Jonas kept looking at him, and then he shrugged. “It’s not as if I don’t get it, Snake. And I don’t really want you do die either.”

“Are you enjoying this?” Frank asked, his voice breaking. “Are you waiting for me to beg?”

“Maybe.” Jonas shrugged, his face completely emotionless. He looked almost bored. He took out the pistol, and looked at it.

Frank took a shaky breath, and buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking.

“You know what, Snake?” Jonas huffed, it sounded almost amused. “I changed my mind.”

Hoping against all rationality and logic and common sense, Frank looked up at him. Jonas was holding out the remote.

“No…” Frank shook his head with a suffocated whisper. “Jonas, no… please… please, not like this…”

Jonas looked at the remote, and back at Frank.

“Jonas, please…”

* * *

_“Jensen, you in position?”_

“Good to go.” Adam held on to the frame of the open hatch of the VTOL, the wind tearing at his hair. He was gritting his teeth as he watched the buildings of an industrial estate pass by underneath.

Malik slowed down. _“Get ready, Jensen, passing the building in four, three, two, one!”_

Adam jumped, aiming for the roof of a two story building at the very edge of the industrial estate, close to the water’s edge and the wastewater treatment plant. He landed on the roof, already in full stealth mode and ready to take down anyone who might catch a glimpse of him. He had foregone every piece of equipment he could spare, his only weapon the silenced ten millimetre pistol, but had stocked up on Cyberboost bars. He had stuffed the entire stock of the VTOL into his pockets and pouches, because he needed to go full stealth all the way to avoid endangering Pritchard even more. He could not allow his cloaking field to fail him in a critical moment.

There was no entrance on the roof, no air duct or utility access, so Adam had no choice but to jump again, hoping no one would see him.

_“Jensen!”_

“What is it, Buckner.” Adam ducked behind a wheelie bin and scanned for hostiles.

_“I’ve seen one truck and two vans leave the compound. I’m trying to keep an eye on the truck to put the feds on their tail. But I can’t tell if anyone is still in the building.”_

Adam carefully moved out from behind the bin and sneaked around a corner. Pritchard would have been able to not only monitor the whole complex but also track all of the vehicles and send the feds after them. “I can see a white van still parked here,” he said. “There wasn’t a utility access or air duct. I’ll have to find another way to get in than the front door. Focus on the vehicles. Jensen out.”

Them pulling out and taking Pritchard along was worst case scenario. But since there was still one vehicle left Adam had hopes of not being too late.

The windows on the first floor were all boarded up, but those on the second floor were not. Adam jumped, managed to grab hold of a windowsill, and chinned himself up. A quick glance told him the room was empty, and he broke the window with a well-dosed punch. A moment’s hesitation, but he still couldn’t hear anything.

Adam pulled himself up and slid through the window into the room. It was a meeting room, of sorts, with a large table and several chairs. And whoever had been here had left in a hurry not so long ago. There was a pack of smokes on the floor, and two of the cups still on the table were half full of coffee, still a little warm.

“Buckner. Is the van still there?”

It took him a moment to reply. _“I don’t… I’ve been trying to access cameras in the area to keep my eyes on the truck.”_

“Isn’t there a way to track the vehicles and keep an eye on this building?”

_“I’m trying, Jensen! It’s not as if I could access satellite data!”_

“Pritchard could,” Adam said without thinking.

 _“I am not Pritchard,”_ Buckner snarled, and cut the call.

Buckner might be a capable hacker, but he sucked at mission support. Adam took a deep breath and opened the door of the meeting room.

All his senses trained on his surroundings Adam left the room, and looked left and right as he entered the corridor. A few feet to his left the corridor ended in a balcony door, so he headed right. He found the stairs down, and carefully, pressed against the wall, he moved down the stairs.

Everything around him was empty. He peeked into a few rooms, and felt his anxiety spike when he saw that two of them were a clinic of sorts, filled with surgical and medical equipment and an operating room. Had they done something to Pritchard here?

_“Jensen!”_

Son of a bitch. “What is it now, Bruckner.”

_“I think I’m getting somewhere with the vehicles!”_

Adam rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a damn about those vehicles. That’s your job. Mine is to focus and get Pritchard out of here without either of us being turned into a corpse with a bunch of holes. Don’t contact me again until you have information that pertains my mission.”

_“Christ! Fine! Buckner out.”_

Really sucked at mission support. Adam needed a moment to get his focus back together. No one was on the first floor either, and Adam headed down the next flight of stairs, but he froze when he could hear voices.

* * *

“You know,” Jonas said conversationally, “I could, of course, kill you with this instead of shooting you, but I won’t. I have a better idea.”

Frank didn’t see the point in replying and just looked up at him.

“The police will be here within half an hour,” Jonas said now, with a smile of a kind that Frank hoped he would never see again. He wouldn’t, of course. He wouldn’t live to see another sunrise. “Probably the feds, too. By then I’ll be gone, of course, and you will still be here. And they will think we just left you behind because of… well, maybe loyalty issues.” He chuckled. It was a nerve-grating sound.

“And what…” Frank had to clear his throat so his voice would carry. “What if I tell them I’ve been kidnapped and forced to work for you?” He tapped his forefinger against his temple.

“Maybe forced, eventually.” Jonas shrugged, still smiling. “But you did come here on your own volition, and even staged your own death.”

“And who’s going to believe that?” Frank asked, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Jonas spread out his arms. “Have you looked around lately? Look! A bed, a wash room, a nice, spacious desk, a kitchenette, an entertainment center, snacks, food… it’s a beautiful little hacker lair you have here. Who would treat a kidnapped prisoner like this? That implant was to prevent you from high-tailing it out of here as a turncoat.”

Frank wouldn’t have thought his blood could have run any colder, but it did. And with the computer fried, there was no proof remaining that he had been trying to call for help.

“I see you understand. So I guess I don’t have to tell you that all the feds will see is a hacker who was left behind because he couldn’t be relied upon. You did set off the alarms at Sarif Industries, after all, and forced us to move out.”

Frank watched Jonas walk away, towards the door. He was really going to leave him. He was throwing him to the wolves. Again. He would be going back to prison again.

“Jonas?” Frank managed to get onto his feet. “You can’t leave me here! You cant do that!”

“You’ve got some nerves, Mr Frank ‘ _I can’t rely on you so I let you_ _r_ _ot in here’_ Pritchard! How does it feel, being on the receiving end of that line, huh?” Having reached the door, Jonas turned around again. “You’re not my problem any more, Frank. You will go back into the pen. Unless…”

“Unless?” Frank didn’t want to take the bait, but he did it anyway because he didn’t know what else to do. Trying to attack Jonas would only result in getting his brain fried again. And since Jonas was out for revenge now he would be careful not to kill Frank, and only incapacitate him long enough to get away.

“Unless you end it yourself. But I’m not going to give you a gun.” He tossed Frank the remote, but Frank was too startled to catch it and it landed several feet behind him. “Six buttons, six levels. If you go to highest setting it’ll take a few minutes, probably, but it will be over eventually. Unless, of course, you prefer going to jail as a repeat offender.”

Before Frank could move or react Jonas slammed the door shut behind him, the faint beep of an electronic lock a scream in Frank’s ears. Frank slowly turned around, and took a few slow and heavy steps towards the remote.

His thoughts were racing, his head was spinning, and he couldn’t think of anything but Jonas’ last words: going to jail as a repeat offender. Unless he pressed that button and ended his own life in the most painful, agonising way possible. He fell onto his knees, cold and trembling and unable to breathe, and with his hand shaking so badly he could hardly move he picked up the remote and stared at it.

He couldn’t think any more. He could only stare at the remote in his shaking hand, filled with a nameless, bottomless horror.

* * *

Adam had listened to that conversation with barely reined in fury. He cloaked himself again when he heard Pritchard’s kidnapper walk towards the door, and he needed all his self-control now to stay calm. He could not let this guy get away, but neither could he endanger Pritchard any more than he already was, so he had to bide his time. He stepped away from the door, and waited until the door was shut and locked before he moved again.

Obviously the guy Pritchard had called Jonas didn’t see him, so when Adam punched him, dosing his momentum carefully so he wouldn’t break his neck, he just collapsed like a sack without making a sound. He would get what he deserved, but Adam had to get to Pritchard first.

* * *

Frank was clutching the remote, almost doubled over, and he couldn’t breathe any more. He wanted to scream, but he was too weak. The image of the remote in his hand kept blurring and swimming back into focus again, and several times he lifted his finger to press the button, but he couldn’t.

But he had to. It was this or going to jail, this time probably for ten years or more. Jensen hadn’t come. And even if he was still on his way, he would be too late. Frank wasn’t sure if the faraway sound of police sirens he heard was real or imagined, but he did not want to find that out.

Frank closed his eyes, his finger hovering over the remote.

A second later he felt something at his back, then something heavy settled on his left shoulder, something that felt like a hand. At the same time another hand closed around Frank’s right, and gently pried the remote out of his weak and trembling fingers. It was tossed away, and landed on the carpet a few feet ahead.

Frank dropped his head with a sob, but he managed to open his eyes again.

The hand, the fingers that were still closed around Frank’s… they were black augmentations.

All of his air left him at once, and Frank almost passed out. The grip of the hand around his left shoulder tightened and prevented him from falling over, and after a moment he managed to somehow keep breathing.

The hand on his left shoulder moved away, and something black appeared at the edge of his vision.

Frank finally looked up.

For a moment they just stared at each other.

“Hey,” Jensen said softly.

His shades retracted, and Frank could see his eyes for the first time. It was a strange, and mesmerising, and beautiful sight.

“You came,” Frank whispered, unable to think of something else.

“You’re alive,” Jensen whispered back. “Of course I came.”

Frank was still caught in that gaze, but he felt the last shreds of his strength rapidly deteriorate. He started shaking again, harder than ever before, but before he could collapse Jensen moved and Frank sank against his chest instead.

Jensen’s arms closed around him now, strong, firm, and real, this was real, Jensen was real, he was here, and Frank was safe. He was finally safe. Frank managed to unfreeze his arms, and he clamped them around Jensen’s chest, clinging to him as hard as he could. Jensen tightened his hold, and rested his chin on the top of Frank’s head.

“It’s okay,” Jensen muttered, his voice low and deep and reassuring. “I’m here, I found you. You’re safe. I’m getting you out of here. You’re not going to spend another minute in this place.”

Frank was aware that he was sobbing, but it was all too much, it all had happened too fast, the terror of having to die, having to die like that, and then suddenly being safe again. But then one of Jensen’s hands came to rest on the back of his head, his fingers threading into Frank’s hair in a slow, soothing rhythm. He managed to calm down somewhat, but he just pressed himself even more against Jensen’s chest and shoulder, looking for comfort, and for the first time in weeks he finally found it.

So maybe he didn’t have a home any more, all his possessions and his bank account were gone, he had nothing, nothing but the clothes on his back, but he was alive, and he was safe. And he wasn’t alone.

Jensen’s arms tightened even more around him now, and Frank slowly felt some of the coldness leave his bones.

Somehow, everything would be okay again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will take a while, I'm afraid. My brain abandoned me with a half-baked idea for an ending that I didn't like, but I managed to talk everything through with a friend. Now I have to chuck several days' worth of writing, and re-write several upcoming chapters, but it's going to be a better story for it.

Adam couldn’t say how long they had been kneeling there, their arms around each other, but he eventually loosened his hold and leaned back. Pritchard let go of him as well, but rather hesitantly, as if he was afraid Adam might vanish again.

He put his hands on Pritchard’s shoulders, and hoped he would never see his face like this again: pale, haggard, his eyes red and swollen and still glassy with tears of terror. “You’re gonna be okay?” he asked. “Can you walk?”

“I guess,” Pritchard replied slowly. He didn’t sound very convincing.

Adam got up and offered Pritchard a hand up. He took it and let himself be pulled to his feet, but swayed a little once he stood. Adam quickly took his elbow to steady him.

“You okay?” he asked again.

Pritchard nodded. “Just get me out of here,” he said in a small voice that Adam hoped he would never hear again either. This wasn’t the mighty Pritchard, the brilliant, clever, snarky asshole. It was a man who had been kidnapped and abused, who had suffered and had experienced fear on a level Adam didn’t want to think about. The hollow cheeks, the sunken eyes, and that ugly, ill-fitting blue jumpsuit made it even worse.

Pritchard now looked away, and Adam followed his eyes. He was looking at whatever gadget it was that Adam had pried out of his fingers.

“What is that thing?” Adam asked cautiously.

Pritchard took a deep, shaky breath. “A remote control.”

“A remote?” Adam frowned, and stepped between Pritchard and the remote he was staring at. “What for?”

Pritchard swallowed hard and put a forefinger against the left side of his head.

And only now did he notice the patch of shaved hair on Pritchard’s left temple, and the two small, black, elongated bits of metal embedded into the skin.

“The fuck is that?” Anger welled up again, and he had to force himself not to yell.

“It’s… a torture device. That remote… if you press the button, my head explodes with pain. He used it to… make me cooperate.”

Adam felt his blood boil within a second, and he didn’t want to imagine what Pritchard must have gone through. “I shouldn’t have left him alive,” he growled.

Pritchard stared at him, eyes widening in terror. “He’s still alive?”

“I knocked him out. Didn’t want to let him get away.”

“Fuck…” Pritchard shook his head. “For a moment I was afraid that-”

He doubled over with a scream of pain, and fell to his knees.

His shades snapping into place Adam spun around, shock giving way to fury. The blond, chubby guy he had knocked out was standing next to the door, a remote in his hand that looked identical to the one that was still lying there on the carpet.

Pritchard stopped screaming, but was breathing heavily, every exhale a low, trembling moan.

“Did you really think I’d give you the real thing?” the guy Pritchard had called Jonas asked, and pulled a pistol that he pointed at Adam now. “How naive. Really, Frank. You’re pathetic.”

He pressed a button of the remote, and behind Adam, Pritchard screamed again.

Adam’s instincts kicked in. This Jonas guy wasn’t the first to underestimate him, a fact Adam could and would take full advantage of. He activated his cloaking shield, and heard Jonas yelp in shock as he disappeared from view.

Adam moved like quicksilver, his blades sliding out as he moved. He was at Jonas’ side within a heartbeat, and Jonas’ howl of pain mingled with Pritchard’s for a second before the latter’s scream petered out into a whimper.

Jonas’ hand hit the ground with a soft, slightly sickening thud, and the man himself fell against the wall staring at the bleeding stump of his right arm. Adam uncloaked and went into a crouch to pry the remote out of the dead, limp fingers of the severed hand. He looked at it, and crushed it into bits in his fist. Then he turned around and picked up the pistol.

He gave Jonas a look of utter contempt, and got up to hurry to Pritchard’s side, dropping the pistol at his feet before he knelt down.

“Pritchard.” He gently took him by the shoulders, righted him up, and rested Pritchard’s back against his chest. Pritchard let his head fall onto Adam’s shoulder with a sound that was half-way between a sob and a moan.

“It’s going to be okay,” Adam muttered, and brushed a few hairs from Pritchard’s forehead that were clinging there. “He can’t hurt you again.”

Pritchard needed a moment to get his breath back, but he did so a lot faster than Adam had expected. He tried not to think about the possibility that Pritchard was already used to that kind of treatment, it only made him so furious he didn’t know what to do about it.

Adam cautiously let go of Pritchard’s shoulders as he leaned away from Adam. Pritchard now looked at Jonas who was still leaning against the wall with his face drawn in agony, while clutching the stump of his forearm against his chest.

After a long, silent moment Pritchard looked away and at the pistol that was lying next to Adam on the carpet. He looked back at Jonas, then he picked up the gun and laboured to his feet. Adam quickly got up and followed, keeping close to his side.

His walk a little unsteady and his steps heavy and slow, Pritchard crossed the room. His arm was trembling as he lifted it to point the pistol at the man leaning against the wall.

Jonas looked up at him, and contempt mingled with the pain on his face.

“You’re not gonna kill me, Frank,” he rasped. “You are no killer. You can’t kill anything, you couldn't’ even kill the bugs in our bedroom. We both know you won’t be able to pull that trigger, Snake. You won’t shoot me. You can’t.”

The pistol wavered, and Pritchard lowered his arm. “No,” he said heavily. “You’re right. I can’t.” And then, without taking his eyes off Jonas’ face, he held the pistol out to Adam. “But he can.”

Having expected the move Adam took the pistol, and enjoyed the look of utter horror replacing the victorious smirk on Jonas’ face for several seconds before he pulled the trigger.

Jonas slumped against the wall and slid down a little, blood trickling out of the hole on the right side of his forehead.

“That was far too easy a death,” Adam muttered and looked at the pistol. He went onto one knee next to the corpse and checked the pulse.

Then he got up again, walked towards the kitchenette, and took a piece of paper towel that he used to thoroughly clean the gun. He dropped the paper into the trash bin, and returned to the body slumped against the wall.

“Looks like his escape plan didn’t work out,” Adam said slowly, and closed the lifeless fingers of the severed right hand around the gun a few times before he placed the gun into Jonas’ left, augmented hand. “Guess he couldn’t stomach the thought of going to jail.”

He got up again, and looked at Pritchard who stared at the corpse with the expression of someone who wants to throw up but is too weak to do so.

“Pritchard?” He walked to Pritchard’s side and gently closed his fingers around the other man’s arm. “You’re going to be okay. He’s gone, he can never hurt you again.”

Pritchard nodded, almost absent-mindedly, still staring at the dead mean. “There’s... he has a flash drive, somewhere. With the blueprints.”

Adam nodded and knelt down next to the corpse. He found the flash drive and pocketed it before he got up again.

Pritchard slowly turned away from the corpse, but after a few steps he faltered and stumbled, and his legs gave way under him. He would have hit the ground if not for Adam who had just reached his side, and without further ado he put his left arm around Pritchard’s shoulders and slipped his right arm behind his knees to lift him up, carefully and slowly.

He expected Pritchard to complain, to say something about this being humiliating, but he just dropped his head against Adam’s shoulder. It was somehow even worse than the tears from earlier.

Adam walked swiftly down the corridors but mounted the stairs slowly, to avoid jostling the man in his arms too much. “Malik. Where are you?”

_“In holding pattern above your location.”_

“There’s a large parking lot in front of the building, big enough for you to use as landing zone.”

_“What about Pritchard? You found him, right?”_

“I found him. And we need to get him to a LIMB clinic. They implanted some sort of torture device into his brain. I destroyed the remote, but that thing needs to go asap.”

 _“Fuck,”_ Malik said under her breath. _“Coming into visual range.”_

Adam had reached the main entrance by now, and he kicked the door open, his eyes scanning the sky as soon as he stepped outside. He took a deep breath of relief when he saw the VTOL come into view.

“We’re almost on our way back to Detroit,” he said to Pritchard. “We’ll take you to the clinic, and Dr Marcovic will take care of you. They’ll get rid of that thing in your head. You’re gonna be okay.”

Pritchard didn’t reply. His eyes were closed, but the fingers of his left hand were still gripping a fold of Adam’s kevlar vest, so he wasn’t unconscious.

Adam remained where he was until Malik had landed and killed the engines, but as he started walking the cockpit opened and Malik hastily scrambled out and came running towards them.

“Shit! Pritchard! Is he okay?” She gave Adam an almost panicked look before staring at the face of the man in his arms.

“He’s alive. Okay is putting it a bit strong.”

Malik still stared at Pritchard’s face, eyes filling with tears. “He’s really alive…”

“He is. But you need postpone the heartfelt reunion. He needs a doctor.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

She ran back to her bird, the cockpit closing as Adam boarded the VTOL, and he slowly sat down as the hatch closed behind him. He felt strangely reluctant to place Pritchard into the other seat, and by the way Pritchard was still clinging to him, he likely wouldn’t appreciate that anyway. It felt strange, and wrong, somehow, to have Pritchard in his lap like this. It was wrong, for him to be so weak and afraid.

Adam felt the slight lurch of the VTOL leaving the ground, and for the first time in weeks he felt he could breathe easily again. Pritchard was back, he was here, and he was alive, and while he wasn’t exactly okay, he would be. He was strong, and resilient, and stubborn, and he would get through this. Not without scars probably, but given time, he would again be the Pritchard they all knew and liked to varying degrees, and who they all had missed.

Adam closed his eyes, and tried to focus on the here and now, and not on the stress and agony and fury that had been his constant companions since the day Pritchard had failed to show up at work.

* * *

Frank still found it difficult to wrap his head around the fact that it was over, that he was free, and that somehow, he would be okay again, that he would get his life back again.

After the moment of utter, terrified panic when he had realised Jonas was still there, still out to kill him, everything that had happened then was somewhat blurry. His head was still throbbing, but he remembered trying to shoot Jonas and not being able to. But Jensen had taken the gun, had not hesitated, and Frank was free and would never have to worry about Jonas, or the rest of his past, again.

He knew he was probably too clingy now, and might be embarrassed of this later, but he could not let go yet, and Jensen didn’t seem to mind.

His headache flared up again, and he couldn’t suppress the tremor that ran through his body.

“Hey.” Jensen’s voice was gentle, calming, soothing. “You okay?”

“Headache,” Frank muttered without lifting his head.

“They’ll have you fixed in no time,” Jensen replied in a low voice. “We’re taking you to the LIMB clinic, and they’ll take care of that thing in your brain. Everything will be okay.”

“Will it?” Frank muttered, hope battling with despair. “All the time I just wanted to go home, but I don’t have a home any more. I don’t have anything any more. Everything’s gone. Everything’s gone, and I’m dead, and I’ve got nothing left.”

Jensen tightened his hold for a moment. “It’s not as dark as it looks right now,” he said in a low voice. “You’re not the first person falsely declared dead. Whatever was in your bank account went to your family, and it’s easy to get that back. And your… your things…”

Jensen faltered, but Frank already knew what happened to his things. They had burned, and what hadn’t burned had been disposed of because he was dead. And while he had once before thought that he had lost everything and had been proven wrong, that kind of miracle didn’t happen twice in one life.

“Your… bedroom,” Jensen began hesitantly. “That was completely destroyed, so everything in there is really gone. Your clothes, and whatever else there was. The rest… the rest is still there. The fire department came in time.”

Frank tensed, and it took a moment for the words to sink in. He leaned back to stare at Jensen, his heart beginning to race. “What…?”

“Your things,” Jensen said, and was for some reason unable to meet his eyes. “I… I took them. All of them. I don’t even know why, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t let go.”

“You…” Frank’s voice broke, and the sheer magnitude of that revelation rendered him unable to properly grasp those words. “You saved… you saved everything?”

“Except the things in your bedroom, but yeah, everything else, including your scaly little friend.”

“He’s…” It felt like a punch in the guts, and Frank knew he should be happy, but he was too overwhelmed. “What happened to him?”

Jensen gave him a small, slightly embarrassed smile. “He moved in with me.”

He was okay. He was okay, he had been taken care of, and Frank would see him again, and the miracle really had happened again. His books and paperwork and computers and all of his other possessions were still there, and the fact that his clothes were gone was a minor inconvenience compared to the rest. He maybe didn’t have a place to live any more, and he didn’t have a job, but most of his life was still there. Picking up the pieces had suddenly become so much easier, and Frank felt himself break and crumble as the constricting pain of that thought suddenly dissipated.

He fell back into Jensen’s embrace, and went completely to pieces.

* * *

Adam wished someone could delete this flight from his memories, because having Pritchard in his lap sobbing like a child was nothing he wanted to remember. By now he had calmed down again, almost too calm, considering his mental state from moments before. Adam leaned his head to the side to look at Pritchard’s face.

His eyes were closed and his forehead furrowed. He was gritting his teeth and breathing heavily through his nose.

_“Jensen?”_

“Malik?”

_“We’ve entered the Detroit area. Only a few minutes before we have touch down on the helipad of the LIMB clinic. I’ve radioed ahead, they know we’re coming.”_

“Good.” Adam took a deep breath. “Pritchard needs a doctor. His headache’s getting worse.”

_“Five minutes, Jensen.”_

Adam took a deep breath. “Hey. Five minutes until we’re at LIMB Detroit. First thing they’ll do is pump you full of painkillers. It’s going to be okay.”

Pritchard leaned back and looked at him. His eyes were red and pinched half shut, lines carved deeply around his mouth and eyes. He tried to smile, but it was a weak and tired thing that hardly deserved the name. “Can’t wait.”

Adam tried to smile back, but he felt rotten and worried and still angry to see Pritchard like this.

“You know, Jensen,” Pritchard said, his voice low. “I would never have thought I’d ever be so happy to see you. If someone had told me that a year ago I’d have laughed into their face.”

Adam gave him a lopsided smile. “I’d probably have done the same.”

_“Prepare for landing!”_

Pritchard huffed out a deep sigh, and moment’s later Adam could feel the VTOL touch the ground. He gave Pritchard a questioning look. “Can you walk?”

“I think so,” Pritchard replied hesitantly.

“I mean… you don’t have to,” Adam replied, with a soft huff of amusement.

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll try anyway.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get off my lap then.”

Pritchard tensed, as if it had only now gone up for him that he had indeed been sitting on Adams lap the whole time, and he laboured onto his feet as fast as he could, avoiding Adam’s eyes. Adam got up as well and opened the hatch, then he hopped out and offered Pritchard a hand to support him as he stepped out of the hatch.

His hand on Pritchard’s elbow he walked him towards the team of medics and Dr Marcovic herself, who were waiting for them at the other end of the helipad. Pritchard held on to Adam’s hand for a moment as he sat down on the gurney, and first let go of it when Dr Marcovic stepped to his side. He settled down onto his back with a soft groan.

Adam kept looking at Pritchard’s face, saw him wince as the needle for the cannula pierced his skin, but then Dr Marcovic injected something that had to be a painkiller because he finally relaxed, his face softened, and his eyes fluttered shut.

“What is that?” Dr Marcovic asked, looking at the two bolts on Pritchard’s temple.

“Some sort of cranial implant,” Adam replied with a frown. “They used to to torture him with the help of a remote control, to make him comply through pain. That’s what he told me.”

“Dear god,” she replied and shook her head. “Don’t worry, Mr Jensen. We will take care of that. We will take care of him. I suggest you find some rest as well. You look completely exhausted.”

Adam was aware that he was in no position to deny that, and he knew he couldn’t do anything right now and would only be in the way. So he patted Pritchard’s hand, the one without cannula, but Pritchard didn’t really react. His eyelids fluttered, and the corners of his mouth twitched, but that was it.

Adam returned to the VTOL and fell heavily into his seat after closing the hatch.

_“Where to, spy-boy?”_

“Can you drop be off at the Chiron building? I just… want to fall flat on my face somewhere and sleep for a week.”

_“Chiron building it is.”_

Adam looked out of the small window and just caught the last glimpse of the gurney and the surrounding medics vanish through a door. The VTOL left the ground, and Adam closed his eyes.

He felt himself begin to unravel, but he managed to keep it together until he was home, until he had undressed and fallen onto his bed.

It was over.

Everything would be okay.


	10. Chapter 10

When Frank surfaced into consciousness the first thing he registered was an absence of pain. He hadn’t even realised how present that pain had become; after a few times of Jonas pressing that button the pain had never completely vanished again, and had eventually become some sort of background noise. Now that it was gone Frank almost felt as if he was floating. 

His mind was also a little foggy, which was probably due to him being full of painkillers. The good stuff you get in hospitals, not the pills Jonas had supplied him with when he had complained. Those hadn’t done a thing. 

Frank took a few deep breaths, and stared at the ceiling of the hospital room. He had a faint memory of being ferried into the ER, and from then on everything vanished in fog. He cautiously lifted his left arm and yes, there was still the cannula in the back of his hand, and he was still on an IV drip. He carefully brought that hand to his left temple.

The patch of shaved hair was larger now, almost as long as his hand, if not much broader than before. But most of it was covered by a dressing, and as he carefully prodded his skin he could feel that the two bolts were gone. The faint pain he still felt was of the stitched-up wound. The thing was finally gone.

Frank dropped his arm with a groan of relief. 

The curtain next to his bed was drawn open and a nurse stepped towards his bed, followed by Dr Marcovic.

“Mr Pritchard,” the latter said with a reassuring smile. “Welcome back.”

Frank nodded and huffed out a deep breath. “Back in the land of the living?” He tried to smile, with meagre success.

“That, too,” Dr Marcovic replied. “You have been unconscious for a few days. We thought it better to keep you fully sedated for the first stage of the recovery process.” She took a clipboard, and her expression became very serious. “It was a near thing. The device your kidnappers implanted was installed very poorly, and we almost lost you”

“It wasn’t meant to last for more than a few weeks,” Frank replied darkly. “So I’m not surprised.”

“You think they never meant for you to survive the procedure for a prolonged amount of time?” Dr Marcovic frowned at him. 

“I don’t only think so, I know.” Frank managed a shrug. “I was kidnapped for a difficult hacking job, and they didn’t intend for me to live to tell the tale.”

“I see,” Dr Marcovic replied, her frown deepening. “That explains the difficulties we had in extracting the implant. It caused the rupture of a major artery, and you needed a lot of blood transfusions until we got that under control.” 

“But it didn’t…” Frank swallowed drily. “It didn’t do any permanent damage, did it?”

Dr Marcovic looked at him for a moment, just a few seconds probably, but it felt much, much longer than that. 

“Mr Pritchard,” she said, and the tone of her voice made Frank’s skin crawl. “The implant itself was placed so dangerously, our attempts at removal almost killed you. We were forced to remove the rest of your cranial implants to be able to save your life.”

Frank’s mind went blank for a moment, and then he felt himself touch the side of his head. 

“It doesn’t look as bad as you think,” Dr Marcovic said, and stepped closer to the bed. “As far as I can say that now we can re-implant them once your reconvalescence has advanced enough. For now, removing them was a necessary evil.”

“But…” Frank’s heart began to beat faster, the beeping of the heart monitor beginning to race. “But I need those! I can’t do my job without them!”

“And I said, you can have them back,” Dr Marcovic replied calmly. “You need to recover first.”

“And who’s going to pay for that?” Frank tried to sit up, but now Dr Marcovic frowned and the nurse pressed a hand against his shoulder. Frank tried to push it off. “Who’s going to pay for that? Not me! I don’t have that kind of money! You can’t do that to me!” Without those implants I’m completely-” He gasped, because the pain in his head flared up again despite hospital-strength painkillers. 

The nurse stepped to the other side of the bed and did something to the IV drip. Frank’s body went warm and heavy, and his mind fogged up. He tried to resist, he knew he was being sedated and he didn’t want that, they couldn’t do that to him, they couldn’t just take everything away from him like that...

Moments later he couldn’t string another two thoughts together, and he stared at the ceiling with a blurry vision and burning eyes. His eyelids fluttered shut no matter how hard he tried to keep them open. Everything around him vanished into a warm, dark haze.

* * *

When Frank’s consciousness surfaced again he fought with a moment of utter disorientation that immediately jolted him fully awake. For a second he felt as if he was suspended in mid-fall, and had no idea where up and down or left and right was. His world stopped spinning as soon as he opened his eyes however, but the experience had been deeply unsettling.

It was then that he remembered what had happened to him: he had lost all of his cranial implants at once. This sensation was somewhat reminiscent of the disorientation he had experienced after getting them. 

His augmentations were gone. He felt half-blind and half-deaf even though he wasn’t anywhere near a computer, now or in the immediate future. But just knowing he was on his own now made Frank feel as if he was being torn out of his own body and slammed into a wall. 

That fucking asshole Jonas, finding a way to fuck him over even worse from beyond the grave.

He had no further time to ponder that thought however, as the curtain was drawn back once again and Dr Marcovic appeared again, with another nurse this time. 

“Mr Pritchard,” she said her voice calm, the look in her eyes guarded. “I’m sorry the loss of your augmentations hit you so hard. But I can assure you, it doesn’t have to be permanent.”

“And I already said I have no idea how I can afford that, with no job and nothing to my name. I don’t even own a fucking pair of pants right now! How am I supposed to afford an augmentation surgery?”

“I’m sure a solution will present itself, Mr Pritchard. For now, we have to get you back onto your feet.”

She took the electronic clipboard that was fastened to the foot end of Frank’s bed, and checked the data. “So far it looks very good.” She cast him a stern look, as if to say she knew it didn’t look that good from a non-medical point of view. “You will have to stay with us for a few more days for observation, but we will transfer you to a regular ward. There is no reason for us to keep you in the ICU any longer.”

Frank wanted to ask how soon he could go home, but that was pointless because he didn’t have a home. Neither did he have a bank account or money to pay for a hotel, and he didn’t have a job where he could sleep in his office. He had a few days to sort that out, however, even if he had no idea how to go about it at this point. The fact that he didn’t even have a pair of briefs bothered him decidedly more, but that was another thing he couldn’t do anything about. 

He was transferred out of the ICU not long afterwards, and was wheeled into a room on a regular ward after a detour via the CT scanner. He had a single room, but he really, really wished he had some clothes right now because all he had was an ugly hospital gown. He would have to bite the bullet and ask Jensen or Malik to lend him some money and buy some stuff. 

Frank hated to be dependent on other people, especially on other people’s charity, but right now he didn’t have a choice about it since he couldn’t leave the hospital dressed like this. He tried not to think about the fact that he didn’t have a place to go after this. 

It wasn’t much later that a nurse entered his room with a tray containing a bowl of soup and a glass of juice. She lifted the upper end of the bed so Frank could sit up to eat, and despite not feeling hungry he had to admit that he did feel a lot better after that. 

“Could I have some coffee, is that possible?” he asked the nurse as she came back to collect the tray. 

But before the nurse could reply someone knocked on the open door, and a low, gravelly voice said, “That won’t be necessary.”

Frank looked up, and at Jensen who was standing in the door frame holding a large paper cup with a white plastic lid. 

“There you go, Mr Pritchard,” the nurse said with a bright smile and left the two alone. 

Jensen closed the door behind him and pulled a chair up to the right side of the bed. Frank took the offered cup and pried the lid off. 

“I’m surprised that is still liquid, by the way this smells,” Frank said with a wry smile.

“I thought you might have coffee withdrawals.” Jensen replied and smiled at him, and retracted his shades. “So I figured you might want something with a bit more firepower than a simple coffee.”

“And what is that, if it’s not coffee?” Frank asked and took a cautious sip. It was strong enough to defend itself against tank attack. It was perfect.

“It’s called a Red-Eye.”

“A what?”

“Red-Eye,” Jensen said again. “You know how an Americano is an espresso topped up with hot water?”

Frank nodded.

“Well, a Red-Eye is a double espresso topped up with filter coffee.”

“That explains it.” Frank took another sip. “I think this is my new favourite drink.”

“I thought as much,” Jensen replied with a chuckle. 

Frank took another sip and closed his eyes. 

“You okay?” Jensen asked in a low voice.

“Okay?” Frank looked at him again, and he could instantly feel his blood pressure rise again. “Okay? Oh I am absolutely okay, I’m just lying here in a hospital bed wearing an ass-free hospital gown for shits and giggles!”

“Jesus, Pritchard.” Jensen leaned into his chair. “Sorry. I get you’re on a hair trigger right now, though. Those last weeks must have been hell.”

Frank fell back into the mattress at his back and sighed. “You have no idea,” he muttered. “And it’s not even over. They…” He swallowed drily and didn’t dare to open his eyes in fear of Jensen seeing his tears. He had bawled enough in front of his eyes. “That fucking thing they put into my brain almost killed me when they tried to take it out, and they were forced to remove all my other cranial implants too.”

“Shit.” Jensen took a deep breath. “Fuck…”

“Yeah.” Frank shook his head. “I have no idea how I’m supposed to… not even go back to my old job. Any job.”

“Didn’t Sarif pay for your augments before?” Jensen asked.

“And you think he’ll do it again?” Now Frank did open his eyes to look at Jensen, who only shrugged.

“I can’t imagine he regretted his investment in your augmentations last time,” Jensen said. “He wanted you back as well, and gave us a pretty long leash when we were trying to find you. He allowed that hole in the firewall so you could access the server for the ocular implants, and he allowed Buckner to let you get away with the blueprints to buy you time.”

Frank was baffled. He hadn’t expected that much support from Sarif. 

“So I think it’s very likely for him to help you get back onto your feet.”

“Maybe,” Frank said. Maybe, but he wasn’t holding his breath. After all, he was a liability now. Kidnapped once to get through his own firewall, and who’s to say there wouldn’t be other people who’d get the same idea?

“You obviously have to get well first,” Jensen said then. “And then we’ll take it from there.”

“Not as if I have much of a choice, do I,” Frank muttered, staring straight ahead, until he remembered he still have a cup of coffee in his hand. He took a sip and let the acid bitterness of the industrial strength coffee roll over his tongue. 

A knock on the door stopped him from spiralling any deeper into darker and darker thoughts.

A nurse stepped into the door. “Mr Pritchard, There is someone here to visit you, but they asked me to ask for your permission first.”

“Permission?” Frank looked at Jensen who shrugged, equally puzzled. “Who would need a permission to visit me?”

“According to them, they are not sure you would appreciate their presence,” the nurse replied. “Your parents seem convinced you would not want to see them.”

“My parents?” Frank felt his stomach do something strange.

“Do you want to see them?”

“I…” Frank took a deep breath. “Yes. But… I need a moment. Ten minutes?”

“I will let them know,” the nurse replied with a small smile and left.

After another deep, deep breath, Frank looked at Jensen again. “I guess you’re wondering why…”

“As far as I know you weren’t on good terms, not that it’s any of my business, you know.” Jensen crossed his legs. “Not judging you.”

Frank shook his head. “I haven’t spoken to them in years. The last time was before I moved to Chicago, and that was in twenty-seventeen.”

“That’s… a very long time.”

“Let’s just say we didn’t part on the best of terms,” Frank replied and leaned back to cross his arms. “We had a lot of arguments with… very poorly chosen words. On both sides. As it is, I never spoke to them again after I moved to Chicago with Jonas.”

“Jonas?” Jensen stared at him. “That guy is… was your ex?”

Frank exhaled with a slow, heavy nod.“We were together for three years before we fucked up and got arrested. But then, when we got thrown into jail…” Frank inhaled through his nose and exhaled again on a sigh. “I don’t know what happened on his end. He somehow found someone who kept him safe from the… from everything. I did not, and when I begged for his help he looked away as if he had never met me. And I was…”

Frank gritted his teeth. He didn’t really have the strength to fight several layers of bad memories at once.

“Pritchard?” 

Opening his eyes he realised he had no idea how long they had been closed. Neither had he any idea why he was pouring all this garbage at Jensen’s feet. 

“How many prison shower jokes have you heard before, Jensen?” 

Frank had no desire to be delicate about this, and it was all he needed to say, really. Jensen tensed, and then he slowly exhaled through his nose. 

“I knew I should have killed him slower,” Jensen said after a moment, his voice a soft growl. 

“Wouldn’t have made a difference,” Frank replied. “But when Sarif bailed me out to employ me he asked if he could use Jonas as well. And I told him that Jonas had skill, but that I had reason to question his loyalty. He had turned his back on me the minute things went rough and only cared for himself. I told Jonas that to his face before I left. I got out, got a job at Sarif Industries, and he had to serve the full five years.”

“And then he decided to get back at you with this hack.”

“Obviously. And he would have gotten away with it, if not for you.” Frank took a deep breath and smiled at him. “I wasn’t sure anyone could decipher that.”

“It wasn’t me who did that,” Jensen replied. “It was Annie.”

“Annie?” Frank huffed out an incredulous chuckle. “I knew she was clever.”

“Yeah, without her we probably still wouldn’t have a clue where to look for you.”

“Without her I’d be dead now,” Frank replied, and shuddered. “Which brings me back to… Jonas had someone attend the funeral with a camera, and at one point he forced me to watch that. And when I saw… when I saw my mother…”

“It was… it was hard to watch,” Jensen said, his voice husky.

“Yeah,” Frank said tonelessly. “And… I don’t know. I know we can’t just fix it. We can’t just suddenly become a happy nuclear family. I’m still angry for a lot of reasons, though I know I’ve been a provocative, foul-mouthed shit sometimes. But without that video I would have spend the rest of my life thinking my parents despise me. And I kind of… don’t want them to die thinking I hate them. Does…” He finally looked at Jensen again. “Does that make sense?”

“Makes perfect sense to me.”

They looked at each other for a moment, and then there was a hesitant knock on the door. Jensen got up and headed for the door, then cautiously opened it. He left, and Frank took a deep, deep breath. 

Eleven years is a long time, and Frank was almost shocked to see how much his parents had aged. His father’s hair was almost white now, and his mother’s mostly grey. It didn’t help that both looked like people who hadn’t slept in months. Which, considering what Frank had seen, might actually be the case.

His mother’s eyes immediately spilled over and she pressed her hand across her mouth, as if to stifle a sob. 

Frank took another deep breath. “Hey Mom.”


	11. Chapter 11

Frank felt more than a little uneasy looking at his mother like that. The only time he had seen her tears was at his grandmother’s funeral, and this was far worse. But considering what he had seen on that video it wasn’t surprising that she was overwhelmed. His father stood behind her, uncomfortable and stiff, but he had tears on his cheeks too and that was even worse to look at. His father was a man built like a brick house, with the personality to match. His tears looked so out of place that it made Frank feel physically uncomfortable. 

Frank’s father remained where he was while his mother sat slowly and hesitantly down in the chair that Jensen had occupied until moments ago. Neither of them knew where to look, but eventually Frank took a deep breath to end this increasingly awkward silence. 

“Mom, I’m… I’m sorry that you… fuck, I don’t know what to say.”

“Neither do I,” his mother replied, trying to swallow her tears. “I just… I want you to know that it didn’t only occur to me that I wish we had never parted on such bad terms until I… I stood at your…” She faltered, and produced a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “Your open grave,” she said, her voice a husky whisper. “We… we always wanted to reach out again, but we didn’t know how.”

Frank took a deep breath. “I’m not sure that would have worked,” he said cautiously. 

His mother shook her head with a sad, tearful smile. “I know. I also know we can’t just pretend all those arguments and ten years of silence never happened.”

“I always had the impression you were fine with that,” Frank replied, unable to suppress his frown completely.

“And that,” his father said, and stepped up to the bed, “that is our greatest failure as your parents, Frank. That we made you believe we feel better off without you.” He shook his head and wiped the back of his hand across his cheek. “Believe me, your mother and I talked a lot, after the… the funeral.”

Frank looked at his mother, with even less of an idea what he could possibly say. 

His mother shook her head, tears running down her cheeks. “We just… thought of all the times we went wrong. It shames us that it took your death to make us realise just how many times that had happened.”

Taking a deep breath, Frank leaned back against the mattress of the raised bed. “And what… what do you expect me to do now? Or to say?”

“Nothing,” his mother replied simply. “We’re not expecting anything. We just know that somehow, God gave us another chance and we… we just wanted to reach out.” She wiped her eyes again, and crumpled the used tissue in her hand. “I tried, before. Once.”

“You what?” Frank crossed his arms. “What did you do?”

“I wrote you a letter.” Frank’s mother slipped the soiled tissue into her pocked and pulled another one of of the packet. She dabbed her eyes and shook her head. “When we… when we found out what happened. That you…”

“That I got arrested.” Frank pressed his lips together, but then it clicked. “You wrote a letter? To me, in jail?”

His mother nodded again. “But it came back a few weeks later, with the note that you were no longer an inmate. We didn’t know… how to find you again. When we learned that you had been sentenced, that you were in jail… of course we were angry. But we also… we didn’t want you to suffer.”

Frank took a deep breath through his nose. “And a letter would have changed that how?”

“We contacted the authorities,” his father now joined the conversation. “To see if we could… pay the bailment. But by the time we had the first talk with our bank advisor about a new mortgage, we got your mother’s letter back.”

Frank’s mind went completely blank for a moment, and he stared at his father, and then at his mother. “You… what?” His voice was hoarse and he had to clear his throat. “I thought you’d be happy someone put me in my place…”

“Not like that,” his mother said. “Not like that, Frank. A prison is a horrible place, and the punishment there doesn’t make anyone a better person. We didn’t want you to be…” She swallowed. “Please don’t think we wanted to buy you, or your affection. We just hoped we could… somehow… repair some of the bridges that we burned.”

Frank was unable to process the last minutes of this conversation. With the way they had parted, with accusations on both sides, he would never in his life have been able to imagine his parents would do such a thing. Sure, he wouldn’t have expected them to dance on his grave, so to speak, but that they honestly had tried to bail him out… it didn’t compute. But he was also sure that they were not lying to him. He had even less of an idea now what he could say or do.

His father now crossed the room and pulled the chair from under the window to the other side of his bed. By the way he moved and walked, Frank realised that his knees must be giving him more and more trouble these days. 

“We don’t expect you to forgive and forget, son,” he said after sinking into the chair. “We both know it doesn’t work that way. And we don’t even know if this was the right thing to do, coming here.” He shook his head and looked at his feet. 

“Frank,” his mother said hesitantly, and when Frank looked at her again he saw she was clenching and unclenching her empty hand, the other closed in a death grip around the paper tissue. “We know that if we want any chance of… of mending things, even a little bit, we had to reach out first. We want to help you. Whatever we can do for you, we will do. But if you… if you want, we will go again. We will leave you in peace, if that’s what you want. But I beg you to believe me when I say that we both regretted all the harsh and bitter words between us, long before we thought we’d lost you forever.”

She lost the fight against her tears again, and Frank couldn’t bear to look at her. It wasn’t so much that he felt guilty about her tears as that he simply couldn’t quite grasp that he was the reason for them, in ways he believed didn’t exist any more. But however it looked, however it might sound, he knew his mother wasn’t a dramatic bitch, and that she would never use tears like that to blackmail him into talking about forgiveness. 

That still didn’t help him with handling this whole uncomfortable, absurd situation of seeing his parents cry because of him however, because they had thought they had lost him. And maybe it was because of all the years that had passed, but looking back, Frank sometimes cringed at how much of a cynical asshole he had been. It’s one thing to be a cynical asshole towards stupid co-workers, it’s another to be a cynical asshole when you’re fourteen and your parents ask you to do your homework. 

It had all started long before that, of course. When Frank couldn’t stand all that talk about God and Jesus any more. When his parents refused to understand his passion about hardware and coding and gaming. They had told him more than once his attidude would get him into trouble. And who likes to admit his parents were right?

And now he was here, trapped in a hospital bed after the worst weeks of his life, apart from prison which was a whole league of its own. And during all those years he had thought his parents just didn’t give a shit, when the contrary had been the case and they simply had assumed he wouldn’t want any contact with them. Which he hadn’t, despite him thinking about having a family as back-up once he would be released from prison.

This whole mess was an absolute clusterfuck that Frank had no idea how to deal with. But his parents were here, they didn’t despise him, they had stayed out of his life thinking – rightly so – he wanted it like that. There was so much shit to sort through, but at least they hadn’t come here thinking they could just hug and make up. And maybe it was trite and cliché and not really what should have happened, for them to reach out to him after they thought they’d lost him. 

But they had tried before, hadn’t they? They had tried to contact him in jail, and even worked on bailing him out. The fact that Sarif had beaten them to it didn’t change the fact they had been about to take up another mortgage to get their son out of jail, and not because he had been unjustly imprisoned. 

Frank looked up at his mother again, and watched her empty hand kneading her thigh for a moment. Then he lifted his own hand, and his mother looked up, at the hand he was holding out, and then at his face. She visibly and audibly swallowed another sob before she reached out as well, and then she hesitantly closed her fingers around Frank’s. She didn’t look up again, and just kept staring at their joint hands. 

“Frank,” she whispered after a moment. “I’m sorry…. For everything. I know we can’t fix this… I just… I just don’t want you to hate us.”

That hit Frank a lot harder than he would have expected. Thinking back, there sure had been moments in his life where he had hated them. And while he did not love his mother with all his heart like other people probably did, because of all the shit that had happened, he would never have wanted her to actually suffer. Frank was a vindictive asshole, but that agony she had been through during her only child’s funeral was nothing he would wish on anyone.

He took a deep breath, and increased the pressure of his fingers. “I… I don’t hate you, Mom.” It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t. “For what it’s worth, I don’t hate you, or Dad. This doesn’t make anything okay, though.”

“I know.” Now she looked up again, still clutching Frank’s hand. “I know it doesn’t. I don’t think anything ever will, but… if there is something you want or need, then please… let us help you.”

Frank wanted to dismiss that, but then thought better of it. There was something his parents really could do for him, and he found it a lot easier to ask it of them now than he would have if he had to ask Malik or Jensen. 

“There is... I really could use some help.” 

His mother tried to smile and gently squeezed his hand. 

“When my apartment burned… the fire started in the bedroom. It didn’t spread, and a co-worker… a friend, he saved all my other things for some sort of sentimentality reasons, but I don’t own a single piece of clothing any more.”

The smile on his mother’s face eased up a little. “That’s no problem at all. And we wanted to transfer the money back that…” She took a deep breath. “We didn’t want it, you know? We don’t have it any more, as such, but you’ll get it back as soon as you have a bank account again.”

“You don’t… have it any more?” Frank resisted the urge to pull his hand back.

“We gave it away,” his father said, and Frank turned his head to look at him. “We donated it to a charity.”

“And what kind of charity?” Frank asked, possibly a lit sharper than warranted.

“It’s…” His father cleared his throat. “I can’t remember the name, but they run shelters for homeless LGBT youths.” 

“We thought it would be in your spirit,” his mother supplied with a hopeful shimmer in her eyes. 

Frank exhaled softly and felt some of the tension leave him again. He nodded slowly and let his head sink back against the mattress. “I guess,” he said. “No, you’re right. As for a bank account, I need to find out if Jensen saved my passport, otherwise that’s going to be a whole other administrative nightmare. But that would all be easier if I at least had some underwear.”

“We can help with that, at least” his mother said firmly, and her smile was a bit more alive now. She was still holding Frank’s hand, but Frank saw no reason for now to take it away from her. “Just give us a list of what you need, and what sizes, and so on. We can take care of that.”

“That would be… an enormous relief,” Frank said, and felt a crooked smile on his lips. “The thought of having to walk around like this, in this ugly gown and with the lads dangling around in the breeze, was not very pleasant.”

His father snorted and quickly covered the lower half of his face with his hand. Frank looked at his mother who was still smiling, but it was more indulgent now, and less heartbreaking. Then she let go of his hand, and gently settled it down on the blanket. 

Frank saw that she was trying to say something, probably wanted to ask something, and didn’t really dare.

“Mom?”

She took a deep breath, and when she looked at him, her eyes were glistening again. “I know I probably shouldn’t be asking this but… and it’s totally okay if you say no because…”

“Mom, what do you want?” Frank asked, trying his best to keep the bite out of his voice.

“I just want to hug you,” she whispered, her eyes spilling over again. “Just for a moment. But… no, don’t worry.”

She sighed, and was about to get up, but Frank felt himself reach out and take her hand again without having made a conscious decision about it. He knew that there had been times in his life when there were few things he would have hated more than getting a hug from his mother. But maybe he was getting old. Maybe this whole clusterfuck had made him sentimental. 

But maybe, he just wanted someone to hug him. 

So he let go of his mother’s hand and opened his arms.

His mother sank down onto the bed next to him with a small, suffocated sob, and closed her arms around him. Frank was a little taken aback at how small his mother felt in his arms. Maybe it was because the last time she had really hugged him he had been a child. But it was a lot more comforting than he had thought it would.

Frank closed his eyes for a moment, and remembered simpler, happier times. Just the reason he had kept all these old pictures. But if Jensen had saved everything else from the apartment, then those pictures should be safe too. 

His mother dropped a kiss into his hair before she leaned back, and she carefully brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead. He felt his father gently pat his shoulder, and Frank managed to give him a small smile as well. His father nodded, and after a sniff and wiping his hand across his nose, he got up and left the room. 

Frank’s mother held on to his shoulders for another moment, and she let go very reluctantly. Then she reached into her handbag to produce a small notebook and a pen. 

She took a deep breath, and managed to give Frank a hopeful smile. “What do you need?”

Frank thought about it for a moment before he compiled the list with his mother’s assistance, for which he was glad because without it he would have forgotten shampoo and a hairbrush. 

As soon as his mother had closed the door behind her he fell back into his bed with a heavy groan. Not because the presence of his parents had been terrible. Just exhausting. He hadn’t been as ready as he had thought it was, and the whole conversation had left him deeply unsettled and he was absolutely done for. 

He would not have been able to imagine his parents really cared that much any more, not after their last conversation before he moved to Chicago. At least his parents weren’t as naive to think they could just fix it, and that made it a lot easier for Frank to deal with this whole mess. It would never be perfect, because it had never been. But it could be better, and the point was, that Frank wanted it to be better. Maybe they could find some sort of relationship that worked, more or less, when they didn’t have to inhabit the same immediate space for any prolonged amount of time. 

Frank began to feel the onset of another headache, and he looked at the control pad of the bed that was hanging from the night stand. He lowered the upper half of the bed again so he could lie down, and he closed his eyes with a heavy huff of breath. 

He was asleep within mere moments.

* * *

Adam had no idea what he was doing or why, but he had found himself a doorway further down the corridor to lurk in, keeping an eye on the door of Pritchard’s room. Pritchard had been extremely apprehensive about seeing his parents, and the last thing he needed now was to get even more upset. Adam wasn’t even sure he would appreciate him playing guard dog, but at this point he felt it hard not to do it.

But when the Pritchards left they looked relatively composed, for people whose son had been magically resurrected, so to speak. Pritchard’s mother was still wiping her eyes with a tissue, but she noticed Adam leaning against the wall as they passed him. 

“Excuse me,” she said, almost timidly. “You were in his room, before. Are you the friend who saved Frank’s things?”

Friend? Probably an easier explanation than ‘co-worker who I used to hate and vice versa but we kind of learned to get along and then he saved my ass so I owe him one’ or something like that. “Yes.”

“He…” She nervously licked her lips. “You wouldn’t happen to have his passport, would you? He needs it for a new bank account. And a lot of other things, I guess.”

“I don’t know,” Adam said truthfully, somewhat angry with himself for not having thought about it himself. “I’ll go and check. Though if it’s been in the bedroom then it’s gone.”

“Let’s hope for the best,” Pritchard’s mother said with a weak attempt at a smile. “You… you were at the funeral, right?”

“I was.” Adam did not like to think back to that day. “I was as surprised as anyone else when he… when we found him again.”

She looked him up and down, quickly, and with a small, hesitant smile. “Was it you who saved him? You look like the kind of man capable of such a thing.”

“It… yes, I was. But you don’t need to thank me. I’m head of security at Sarif. I was doing my job.”

“That doesn’t mean no one should appreciate what you did.” Her eyes were glistening again. “Thank you, for bringing our boy home.”

“Pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate you calling him that,” Adam said drily.

Mrs Pritchard shook her head with a watery smile and dabbed her eyes with the crumpled tissue in her hand. “I gave birth to him, a part of him will always be my baby boy. But you are right, he would not appreciate that. Thank you, Mr…?”

“Jensen.”

“Thank you, Mr Jensen. I’m going to solve his wardrobe problem now, and I know he’d be very relieved if he could have the passport back.”

“I’ll check,” Adam said again. 

She nodded, and then the two were gone. Adam took a deep breath, and headed back to Pritchard’s room. He knocked, and when he didn’t get a reply he knocked again, a little louder. And when he still didn’t get a reply, he cautiously and slowly opened the door.

The bed was lowered again, and the only thing he could see of Pritchard were a few strands of hair sticking out of a blanket cocoon.

“Pritchard?” he muttered, but there was no reply other than deep breaths.

A soft smile appeared on Adam’s lips without him being able to stop it, and with his soundless walking activated he headed towards the window and half-closed the blinds to dim the light in the room. Then he switched off the ceiling lamps and left again, closing the door softly behind him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The PTSD issue appears in this chapter, in form of a flashback.

Adam made his way towards the storage unit without further delay, but the more he thought about it, the surer he was that there had been no passport among the documents he had packed. And neither had there been one in the backpack; he had checked to make sure there wasn’t half a lunch box or a bottle of juice, or anything else that could rot and ruin the backpack and anything else in the unit with the stink of moulding food.

That left the jacket, and Adam turned around and headed back home. The leather jacket was still sitting on the top of Adam’s wardrobe, and he carefully picked it up and looked at it. Not so long ago, when he had put it there, he had believed it would be one of the few things that would remain of Pritchard, and he had still no idea why he had felt he had needed a keepsake of the man. 

By now, after discovering he had honestly, truly missed him, after having left no stone unturned to solve the mystery of his death, after the indescribable relief of having found him… Adam had not wanted to let go of him, back in that facility where he had found him. Had certainly not minded holding him for a while longer, in the VTOL. And now he felt almost ridiculously protective, enough so that he was playing bodyguard when the people in his room had only been his parents. 

Adam looked at the jacket, and brought it to his face. He cringed, inwardly and physically; why was he doing this? And yes, the jacket smelled like Pritchard, some dark and earthy cologne or aftershave, a little bit of smoke, and something that he couldn’t identify, that had to be Pritchard’s personal scent.

Fuck. He was being a total creep about this.

He took a few deep breath, holding the jacket at arm’s length, and asked himself how he would be able to look Pritchard in the eyes again after this. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t, it couldn’t be a crush, but the fact remained that right now, he did not feel about Pritchard what he usually felt about co-corkers. It had to be the whole being-kidnapped-and-declared-dead thing.

_Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that._

The fact that Pritchard was made of seventy percent water and thirty percent sarcasm didn’t change the fact he was handsome, extremely so, not despite of his sharp-angled face, but because of it. But that didn’t mean Adam had a crush. He kept trying to tell himself those feelings were caused by the fact he had lost him, thought he had lost him, and that it would pass as soon as Pritchard was back to being his usual cynical and abrasive self.

Pritchard would certainly laugh into his face at the sheer notion of Jensen having a little crush on him. 

Adam stared at the jacket with a heavy huff of breath. What he could admit was that Pritchard’s death had shaken him up a lot more than he would have been able to imagine. Anything else, he would have to deal with as it happened.

Rummaging through the pockets of the jacket did not only produce the passport and driver’s license, but also a dead phone. And since it was safe to assume the charger had been in the bedroom, as Adam couldn’t remember having packed one, he would buy a new one on his way back to the hospital. 

Pritchard was awake again by the time Adam was back, and he had apparently just finished having dinner as a nurse was carrying a tray out of his room. 

Adam knocked on the door frame, and Pritchard looked up, puzzled and slightly alarmed, but he immediately relaxed when he saw Adam. 

“I come bearing gifts,” Adam said and held out the passport and the driver’s license out to Pritchard as he sat down, after hanging the jacket over the back of the chair. 

“My…” Pritchard’s eyes widened. “Fuck… those were... my jacket?” He looked up at Adam. “I thought that…”

“It…” Shit. Now he had to admit that he had taken the jacket and not put it into storage. “It was hanging next to the door…” Adam cleared his throat. “I guess I was feeling a… little sentimental. So I took it.”

“Sentimental.” Pritchard put the passport into the drawer of his night-stand. “You? Because of me?”

Adam shrugged. “Enjoy it while it lasts. Your phone was in that jacket too, by the way. I bought a new charger, and if it makes you feel better you can pay me back once you’ve sorted everything.”

Pritchard exhaled slowly and nodded. “I will, don’t worry. I hate owing people anything. But… thank you, Jensen. It’s really appreciated.”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t think it’s creepy I kept the thing.” Still unable to meet Pritchard’s eyes Adam dug into his pocket and produced the phone and the still packaged charger.

“I don’t think creepy is the right word, Jensen,” Pritchard replied cautiously as he took the two items. “But you were the last person on earth I would have expected to do that.”

“That makes two of us,” Adam muttered and got up again. The burning embarrassment was getting worse. “I think visiting hours are over.”

“They are, but could you help me with that before you go?” Pritchard held up the charger. 

“Right.” Adam took the packaged charger, extended one of his blades, and carefully cut through the plastic. He also peeled the charger out of the transparent material that wasn’t only made to withstand a nuclear strike but also, once cut open, could be used as close-quarter combat weapon. Adam’s synthetic fingers wouldn't be sliced to shreds working the charger out.

“Thanks,” Pritchard said as he took the charger, but then his face softened a little. “For everything.”

“Don’t mention it,” Adam replied, and left the room again maybe a bit faster than was necessary, after a mumbled ‘good night’.

Adam took a major detour back home, and spent a large part of the night staring at the walls in an attempt to not stare at the table with Pritchard’s vintage PCs. He got increasingly worried Pritchard would sprain something from laughing too hard, should he ever get to see that. 

Well. Better than never have him laugh at all. And maybe, Adam would enjoy seeing and hearing Pritchard laugh regardless if the joke was on him.

* * *

Things were definitely looking up. After getting his passport and driver’s license back last night, his mother had now dropped a whole duffle bag of clothing off. She had even spent a few hours in a laundromat to wash and dry them, so he could wear them without risking a rash from weird chemical residues. The fact that she still remembered he had always had that issue was a little touching. 

After some deliberation he had given his parents a letter of proxy and they had set up a new bank account for him, and the last thing they had done before they had to return home was book a hotel room for him. They had used all their liquid funds for the month on that so they couldn’t offer more than two weeks, from the estimated day of his discharge, but they promised that they would return his money as soon as they could. After what happened, Frank had no reason to doubt that. 

So now he slowly got out of bed, since he had been disconnected from the IV drip this morning, and could finally get out of this hospital gown. The sweatpants were a little wide in the hips, but then, Frank had lost a lot of weight during his weeks as Jonas’ prisoner. Relieved his mother had gone for dark and unobtrusive colours instead of trying to guess his taste he pulled on socks that fit, and a sweater that was ridiculously huge and hung from his shoulders like a sack. It was annoying as fuck that size charts meant something completely different to different brands. That’s why he didn’t like shopping for clothes.

He was just debating if he should sit down and rest a bit since the act of dressing had been uncomfortably exhausting, or if he should find some coffee first, when there was a knock on the door. 

“Yes?”

The door flew open, and before he had even fully turned around he was almost bowled over by a yelping Annie who threw her arms around him with a sob and proceeded to cling to him like an oversized koala. 

“Uh…” He clumsily patted her back. “Nice to see you too, Fly.”

“I’m sure you appreciate a less… enthusiastic greeting on my side, Frank.” 

Frank looked up and at Sarif, who was looking at him and Annie with a benevolent, wry smile. 

“Annie, don’t give Sarif any ideas,” Frank muttered. 

Annie let go of him rather reluctantly and stepped back, rubbing her hands down her face. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I fucking missed you, Snake.”

“She’s not the only one,” Sarif said, and now Frank saw he was holding a cotton shopping bag from which he produced a stack of envelopes. 

Frank took them with a puzzled frown. They all had his name on it, in different versions (Frank Pritchard, Francis Pritchard, Francis Wendell Pritchard, and Pritchard) and in different handwriting. 

He opened the first, and found a get-well card, filled with signatures. “The whole HR department?” He looked up at Sarif.

“Among others,” Sarif replied and gestured at the other cards. “And it wasn’t me who thought of that. They just kept coming after I wrote the circular to inform everyone that you’re not dead after all and explained the situation, with confidentiality in mind, of course.”

Frank was baffled, and dropped the open card onto his bed to open the next one, which was from IT and Tech Support. Then one from Admin and PR, two from the lab staff, one from Research and Development, and the last one from Maintenance and Security. 

“That’s… the whole staff of Sarif Industries,” Frank said after he had opened the last card. “And here I was sure I’m the least popular employee there.”

“There’s popular, Frank, and then there’s being a member of the team, of the family.” Sarif was still smiling. “And it really wasn’t the same without you.”

“Well.” Frank stacked all the cards and put them down on his night-stand. He hesitated for a moment before he looked at Sarif again. “I guess you heard what they had to do to save me?”

“I did,” Sarif replied, and the smile vanished. “And while I really want you back on the team I can’t just give you back your old job, for obvious reasons. But we’ll figure that out. For now you have to recover, and then we take it from there.”

Frank wanted to ask about his implants, but he knew well enough that he wouldn’t necessarily need them if he didn’t get back his old position. Maybe he would just have to accept the loss and move on, somehow. He was, after all, more than just the sum of his parts. He had skills and experience that had nothing to do with his implants, and no one could take that away from him. 

“It’s good to see you back, Frank.” Sarif rubbed his lower eyelids with the back of his forefinger, first left, than right. “I or Athene will contact you. Take care of yourself for now.”

With that he left again, and Frank too a few deep breaths before he looked at Annie again. 

“I missed you so much,” Annie said with a small sob. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

“What?” Frank walked up too her and pulled her into a hug. “Getting kidnapped and declared dead?”

“You know the answer to that, you asshole!” Annie sniffled into his shoulder. 

“I can promise you that I have no intention to.”

After a moment she peeled himself away from him and looked him over, especially his face, and the side of his head. 

“Adam said they put a torture implant into his head.” She blinked a few tears away that ran down her cheeks. “I didn’t want to believe that.”

Frank sighed and shrugged. “I don’t like thinking about it either. But it’s over. I’m fine now.” Then he nudged her with his elbow. “And now you can’t blame my implants any longer when I hand you your ass in Primal Alert.”

Annie blew a slightly moist raspberry while digging around in her pockets for a handkerchief. After blowing her nose she looked at him again. 

“Someone needs to feed you,” she said. 

“Be my guest,” Frank replied with a crooked grin. “By the way, did you make that pass on the girl in the diner?”

“Was a little preoccupied with my best friend being dead,” Annie replied with a frown. “But last time I was there, she walked out hand in hand with an absolute jock. I really got the worst of luck.”

“Fuck.” Frank patted her shoulder. “One day, Fly.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She huffed out an exasperated sigh. “And what about you?”

“Me?” Frank cocked one eyebrow. “Been a bit busy being kidnapped and forced to hack my own firewall these last few weeks.”

“Urgh, you’re the worst!” Annie fake-slapped his arm. “I’m talking about Mr Broody Dark and Handsome.”

“...what?” Frank blinked at her like an owl. 

“Adam, you moron.”

“Adam?” Frank felt like they were having two different conversation all of a sudden. “Jensen?”

“How many Adams do we both know?” Annie rolled her eyes. “That guy left absolutely no stone unturned to find out who and what killed you. He’s been like a bloodhound, convinced that you didn’t die because you got drunk and fell asleep in your bed with a smoke.”

“Well… I didn’t, did I?”

“Most people believed that.” Annie shrugged again. “Everyone believed that. I didn’t want to believe that, but Adam just… didn’t. He just didn’t. And he kept digging and digging and he eventually discovered that the forensic reports had been faked which led to a second autopsy that revealed it wasn’t you.”

“Oh.” Frank had no idea what to say to that.

“And then he stormed into the Tech Lab and made Buckner scan for your GPL and dig through the footage of half of Detroit’s CCTV cameras. And… then… well, it was Adam who told Buckner to give the puzzle with the binary to me, because that was really pissing him off, but Adam wanted him to focus on finding you. And… Buckner did, and then I…” She bumped Frank’s shoulder with her fist. “That snake thing was a stroke of genius.”

“He… really did that?”

“I don’t think he slept much during that time. He was… I heard some people in the cafeteria call him obsessed.” Annie took a deep breath and exhaled softly. 

It was a difficult thing to process. That Jensen had torn himself up and had left no stone unturned, first to prove he hadn’t been killed, then to find him. 

“So you see,” Annie said and poked his chest. “If I was you, and gay-”

“You are gay.”

“You know what I mean!” She poked him again. “What I’m saying is you should hit on that guy with a fucking sledgehammer.”

“I… was thinking about it,” Frank admitted. “Though I can’t imagine he’s into skinny nerds.”

“Opposites attract,” Annie said and winked. “Take him out for a drink.”

“I’ll think about it.” Frank took a step back before she could poke him again.

“If you won’t ask him out then I will do it for you!”

“Do that and I’ll hack all your dating profiles!”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then both had to laugh. 

Annie threw her arms around his neck again and kissed his cheek. “I gotta go,” she said after she leaned back. “Call me if you need anything, okay? A place to crash, food, coffee, anything.”

“I will.”

Frank watched her go, and found himself pondering the thought of asking Jensen out for a drink. He wasn’t sure it was the best idea, but what was the worst that could happen? Probably the same awkward atmosphere of not knowing what to talk about like last time. So what did he have to lose?

First things first. He couldn’t hit on Jensen anyway as long as he was still in hospital. 

But once he was out of here, he would work on something.

* * *

Two weeks after his return from the dead his parents transferred his money back, and now all of Frank’s immediate problems that had worried him the most had been solved. He would probably have to apply for unemployment benefits to tide him over, which would make finding a place to live difficult. But if push came to shove he would have to borrow money for a deposit from his parents. As soon as he had an income again he could and would pay them back. 

So now he was finally allowed leave the clinic, since the bouts of headache and dizziness had lessened significantly, and the weird spells of disorientation that were connected to the loss of his implants had vanished again as well. 

He had just gotten comfortable in the hotel room, nothing luxurious, nothing big, but comfortable enough for him, when he got a call from Sarif. 

Frank was mildly surprised that he invited him to Sarif Industries, and he was even more surprised at the reception he got when he walked into the lobby. Apparently news had made the round that he was back and that he would be here today. 

Frank had never in his life shaken so many hands and received so many pats on his shoulders, and he was a little out of breath when he finally reached the escalator. Jensen was waiting for him, looking like a bodyguard in his black coat and shades, and they entered the elevator to Sarif’s office together. 

“Frank!” Athene’s face lit up in honest delight. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

“Thanks,” Frank replied, still a little flustered. “It’s… uh… good to be back. Sort of.”

“Mr Sarif will sort that,” she said. “Go on, he’s waiting for you.”

Frank followed Jensen into the office. Sarif was leaning against the wall next to the mantelpiece and was watching a baseball match on the huge screen behind his desk. He smiled broadly and happily as they rounded the corner. 

“Adam! Frank! Good to see you! How are you?”

“I’m absolutely fine,” Frank replied with a smile. “Like new. Minus a few upgrades.”

Sarif looked at the screen, and picked up a remote on the mantelpiece. “Let me mute that,” he said.

Frank had no time to even process what was happening. The moment Sarif turned around with the remote in his hand everything around him vanished in static noise and a searing pain. He fell to his knees with a yelp that punched all air out of him and he couldn’t breathe any more.

“Frank!” 

“Pritchard! Boss, do we need to call a doctor?”

“Not sure. Frank? Frank!”

“I think he’s coming out of it. Pritchard, come on.”

Hands were patting him down, and someone grabbed his shoulders to pull him upright into a sitting position. Frank saw black mechanical fingers on his left shoulder and right upper arm, and only then did he realise he was on his knees in Sarif’s office, drenched in sweat and ice-cold and shaking. 

His vision swam back into focus, and he saw Sarif on one knee in front of him, eyes wide with worry. 

His heartbeat slowly calming down Frank closed his mouth again because he was panting like a fucking dog, but his throat was so dry it made a clicking sound as he swallowed.

“Frank,” Sarif said slowly but firmly. “I think we need to talk.”


	13. Chapter 13

Frank hopped out of the VTOL and slung his duffle bag over his shoulder without looking back. He had neither looked at Sarif nor at Jensen for the whole transatlantic flight, and he didn’t need to now.

“Pritchard, do you want me to-”

“No thank you, Jensen,” Frank spat without turning his head. “I think I can find the way perfectly well on my own.”

Frank stared at the neatly gravelled path leading to the white, medieval monastery building, modernised and renovated and beautifully situated between rolling hills and fields in the south-west of France.

**\---**

_“You want me to go where?” Frank wished he could say he hadn’t heard that right, but he knew he had._

_“Frank, don’t look at me like that.” Sarif’s voice was infuriatingly gentle. “You clearly aren’t over the whole thing, and you need professional treatment.”_

_“Treatment? I’m fine! I’m-”_

_“Frank.” Sarif’s voice was stern now. “Ending up in fetal position with a panic attack and phantom pains after someone points a remote into your general direction is not ‘fine’.”_

_“So…” Frank dug his hands into his hair. “Okay! I had a flashback! That doesn’t mean it’ll keep happening!”_

_“And you want to rely on that hope?” Sarif took a deep breath. “And live the rest of your life with a fear of remotes-”_

_“I am not afraid of remotes!” Frank yelled. “And I am not going into a… a… facility!”_

_“Frank, it’s a rehab facility for people with severe PTSD. Nobody is locking you away! Christ, you’re acting as if I’m throwing you back into the pen!”_

_“And that facility is better how?”_

_“Those people want to help you, not punish you, Frank.”_

_“Help. Yeah, sure.” Frank huffed out a bitter, mirthless chuckle. “Because that’s what I need? Being under permanent observation somewhere while being pumped full of pills?”_

_“Frank.” Sarif pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re making this way harder than it has to be. Fact is, you can’t have your job back before you clear a psych eval. You need treatment for that, and the best possible treatment you can get is in that facility in France.”_

_Frank suddenly had difficulties breathing. His whole future was just tipping over like an overused Jenga tower, his whole life collapsing around him like a giant shit souffle, because of one single fucking flashback._

_“Nice reminder that I’m completely worthless to anyone else,” he pressed out through gritted teeth. “With nothing but a high school degree and a criminal record there’s no one else who’ll have me, but now I’m even too fucked up for you.”_

_“Frank, there’s no need for that kind of language.”_

_“Pritchard,” Jensen now joined the discussion. He had, until now, just been standing there in his usual threatening-bodyguard-mode. “You really need therapy for that PTSD you got. And if Sarif says that’s where you get the best treatment then you should go there.”_

_“Christ, you too, Jensen?” Frank felt physically sick, all of a sudden. “If you all suddenly think I’m too messed up and broken and... if you think I’m not worth it any more why save me at all?! Yeah I got Pritchard back, but you have to call the funny farm because he’s finally gone off the deep end!”_

_“That’s not…” Jensen huffed out a heavy breath._

_“Frank. I get it, you’re stressed,” Sarif said then. “But we really want the best for you, you have to believe that.”_

_Frank took a step back and crossed his arms to hide how much his hands were shaking. “But I really haven’t got a choice about it, do I? Unemployment benefits are a joke and the only way I could keep my head above water is what got me arrested before. I guess being dropped off in a loony bin is still better than risking another stint in prison.”_

_“Again, Frank, this is not an asylum. It’s a mental health facility, yes, but specialised on the treatment of PTSD and PTSD related issues. They will help you there, and we will wait for you here. We’ll be glad to have you back!”_

_“Yeah, sure,” Frank said with acid bitterness and tightened his arms in front of his chest._

_“Pritchard…”_

_“Forget it, Jensen. Thanks for getting my ass out of trouble but you really needn’t have bothered.”_

_The look Sarif and Jensen exchanged told Frank all he needed to know._

**\---**

Frank exhaled softly and walked away from the VTOL with gritted teeth, the hand that wasn’t holding his bag curled into a fist. There really was no choice if the options were risking prison or spending the rest of his life in a nuthouse. At least here he wouldn’t be fucked until he had blood running down his legs. And maybe they really would pump him full of Don’t-Care pills.

He could, of course, go back to New Hampshire until he could sort his life on his own. But there was a ninety-five percent chance he would end up in prison after all on charge of murder, or in an actual nuthouse in a straightjacket.

He forced himself not to look back when he heard the engines of the VTOL come to life, and he didn’t look back when he could hear it take off. The sound of the engines grew fainter until it vanished out of earshot.

A few more deep breaths, and Frank began to walk down the gravelled path towards the main entrance. Looking around he saw that the building looked medieval as well from the inside, with arcs and alcoves, but the walls were fettled and painted white with cream-coloured contours.

The automatic doors closed behind him again with a soft hiss. It somehow didn’t matter the doors were made of glass, that the reception area was light and full of abstract paintings and house plants, and that the receptionist was a young, pretty woman with red hair in a bun who gave him a very warm and cheerful smile.

“Pritchard,” he said.

“Mr Pritchard, yes, we’ve been expecting you.” Her French accent was notable, but not in a way that made understanding her difficult. Under different circumstances, Frank might have found her charming. “Please take a seat, Dr Bruneau will be with you in a moment.”

Frank looked around and spotted a luxurious leather sofa under the large panorama window overlooking a square sort of courtyard. Right. The building was an old monastery, with modern add-ons, but they had apparently left the old structure as intact as was possible. There was a small waterspout fountain in the centre of the garden, surrounded by flowerbeds neatly partitioned into squares and rectangles by small, gravelled pathways.

It was a beautiful place.

Frank wanted to throw up.

He could have lived with a facility that was just a hospital, with regular rooms and regular staff, at least there wouldn’t have to be so much ridiculous pretend play involved. Here? He was perfectly well deposited here, in a place so nice and comfortable that no one had to worry about him. Now the world and everyone in it could forget about him in good conscience because he was ‘taken care of’ in the ‘best facility’ possible.

“Mr Pritchard?”

Another female voice, the accent a little more pronounced this time. Frank looked up, and at a middle-aged woman with short brown hair and golden, rectangular glasses framing strikingly green eyes that seemed to bore into his soul.

“I’m Dr Marie Bruneau. Welcome to La Colline EnsoleilléeI. I understand you might feel a little apprehensive or anxious about your time with us, but I can assure you, we are here for you. We are here to help.”

“Yeah.” Frank didn’t hide how bitter he felt at being all but deported across the whole world to be out of everyone’s hair. And if the alternative – which was blackhat work with a high risk of ending up in prison again – wouldn’t scare him so much, he would have vanished off the grid the day Sarif had brought the issue up.

Again, this was better than prison. There were no bars, he wasn’t greeted with a forced haircut, and if the interior was any indication then the food would probably not be utter garbage too. And maybe his room mate wouldn’t be a total jerk.

“Ah, here he is.” Dr Bruneau smiled at him and extended her arm towards a young man with a goatee and an undercut in a man-bun. “Maurice, would you show Mr Pritchard to his room? It’s 24.”

Maurice, apparently some sort of porter or maybe a nurse, or whatever, not that Frank cared, offered to take Frank’s bag, which Frank pointedly declined. It was bad enough to be shipped here as it was, he wasn’t an invalid and would like to keep a bit of his autonomy and dignity, thank you very much.

To his surprise his room was a single room, one bed, a wardrobe, a night-stand, a two-seater sofa and a large TV above a small shelf that held a console and headphones. The floor was carpeted and he had an en-suite, and next to the bed was a large glass door leading out into the small monastery garden he had seen from the reception area.

“I can…” Frank put down the bag. “I can just go outside like that?”

Maurice looked honestly puzzled for a moment before he smiled again. “Of course! Why would we lock you up? If you want, you can take a shower and get settled, or I can give you a tour of this place now.”

“I’d like to get settled first.”

“No problem!” Maurice beamed at him as he headed for the door. “Should I come back in an hour?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The door closed, and Frank fell onto the bed, staring at his feet. This was getting worse and worse. This place was beautiful and luxurious and comfortable and all in all a five star facility.

Sarif had really gone all out to make sure no one needed to think any more about the existence of this man without education, without augments, and with a severe mental problem. Worthless, useless, damaged goods. Deposited safely in a storage unit, packaged in bubble wrap and a shiny new box. Out of sight, out of mind.

Still better than prison. Better than living on the streets, sleeping behind dumpsters and selling his ass for the next can of beer.

It was surprising how little comfort Frank could take from that thought.

* * *

Sarif had sent Adam right home after the had returned to Detroit, and now he was sitting on his sofa staring at a black TV screen while pouring Bourbon down his throat, not bothering with a glass.

_Forget it, Jensen. Thanks for getting my ass out of trouble but you really needn’t have bothered._

Shaking his head, Adam sank deeper into the sofa. Then he took the remote, stared at it as if daring it to do something fucked up, and switched on the TV after all. But nothing, not Cassan’s news blather, nor an action movie, nor music videos, did anything to get Pritchard’s words out of his mind, or the pained look of deep, utter betrayal in his eyes.

Adam shook his head with a sigh when he realised his bottle was empty, and got up to find himself another one. On his way back from the kitchen he looked at the snake tank again, and on a whim, he opened the door at the narrow side of the tank. He reached inside, thinking of so many pictures he had seen of people walking around with their snakes, but this particular snake simply refused any bonding attempts.

“Come on, don’t be like that, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The snake recoiled from his touch and hissed.

Adam stepped back with a sigh. It was really a beautiful animal, and he would have loved to touch it, but the snake was having very strong opinions about that. Adam watched the snake slither away and curl up at the far end of the terrarium.

He took a swig of Bourbon, again straight from the bottle, and thrust out an accusing finger at the snake. “Just like your owner. Moody pricks, both of you. Why am I not surprised.”

The snake was now tightly coiled up and neither the tip of the tail nor the head were visible any more.

“You know I didn’t wanna hurt him, don’t you?” Adam closed the door and walked around the terrarium until he stood next to the snake again. “Because I really didn’t.”

The snake didn’t move.

Another sip, a rather generous this time. Adam barely suppressed a belch and tapped his finger softly against the glass. “Are you even listening to me?”

Still no reaction from the snake other than a slight tightening of the coils he had wound himself into.

“Fine! Be like that! See if I care!”

Adam walked around the sofa and let himself flop down, and took a large sip of Bourbon. He stared straight ahead with a darkening mood.

He really hadn’t wanted to hurt Pritchard, but the man had looked at Adam as if he had just cut right through his heart with a blunt knife. And it wasn’t even as if Adam couldn’t sympathise. Coming out of hell, feeling finally free, only to discover that hell wasn’t over and you were not free, not by a long shot. It was hard.

But Pritchard was stubborn and it was so hard to change his mind, so with him having convinced himself that nobody wanted him any more and that he had been dropped onto the scrap heap, it would be hard to change his mind.

But had he really regretted being saved? Did he really believe now it would be better if Adam hadn’t found him? That thought hurt like a burning iron.

Did Pritchard really sit there in that facility on the other side of the world thinking he would have to stay there forever until they carry him out feet first, without ever seeing Detroit, the people he cared about, his snake, or his things, ever again?

Adam turned around and walked towards the snake tank. The snake had uncurled, but gave him the reptilian equivalent of stinky eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just… I care about you both, you know? I don’t know if you feel lonely in there. I don’t know if Pritchard carried you around his shoulders when he was puttering around at home, making coffee or whatever. I clearly can’t, because you can’t stand me. And Pritchard…” Adam shook his head. “What am I doing, talking to a snake? I’m apologizing to a bloody reptile.”

The snake didn’t dignify Adam with a reply and Adam took another swig of Bourbon. The fact that the bottle was already half-empty might have something to do with him apologising to a snake.

“Yeah, whatever. You’re clearly just as much of a prick as Pritchard is. Like master, like man.”

That thought hurt Adam a lot more than the snake. Pritchard was a loner, as far as Adam was aware, but right now he had to feel terribly alone since he considered himself abandoned and mothballed in a mental health facility.

“I really didn’t mean for you to feel that way,” Adam said huskily, but he didn’t know if he was talking to Pritchard or the snake.

* * *

Frank had had his share of therapy after getting out of jail, and it had helped next to nothing. Now here he was again, sitting in a nice room in a nice chair opposite a nice woman who tried to worm herself into his private thoughts.

He had been given a journal to note his sleeping patterns and dreams, and another to use as a diary but that was optional. Two weeks in and Frank was ready to bash his head in, but by now he had enough of the reproach and filled in the sleeping journal so they would get off his ass.

At least the place had a nice, spacious and well-equipped cafeteria with coffee makers and snacks, and a huge library with books and e-books about basically any topic he could think of. The TV in his room had access to countless international channels and several streaming platforms, and he could get any game he wanted. He also was free to go outside whenever he wanted and however long he wished.

He was bored half to death most of the time. And too tired to do anything about it because of the recurring nightmares robbing him off his sleep. Writing them down and talking about them with a shrink didn’t do shit. But then, he had known from the beginning this would be the end of the line for him.

Maybe one day he could just drop dead from boredom or tiredness, or both.

* * *

Three months in and nothing had happened, and nothing continued to happen. Frank stared at the calendar on his phone, and after a moment he switched it off again, ignoring the missed calls and text messages. He was in no mood for any half-assed ‘how are you’s and pitiful commiserative nonsense.

There was a knock on the door, and with a heavy sigh, Frank got up to open it. One of the younger nurses whose name Frank could never remember was smiling at him suspiciously bright.

“You have visitors, Mr Pritchard!”

“Visitors.”

She nodded, still smiling brightly.

Visitors. More commiserative bullshit, this time in person. More encouragement that he should just need to get well and then he could come home and everything would be okay, when everyone involved knew it wouldn’t be okay. Apparently there were still remains of a bad conscience involved if anyone felt compelled to check on him. He could do without the pity.

“I don’t want any visitors.”

The nurse blinked a few times, and then her smile turned into a confused, wide-eyed stare. “Sorry?”

“I said, I don’t want any visitors. I don’t care who it is. I don’t want to see anyone.”

He closed the door in her face, gently and slowly, but still firmly, leaving no room for doubt that he meant it. He walked back to his bed and let himself fall down, then sank onto his back.

Another knock. “Mr Pritchard, are you sure?”

“I am!” Frank yelled across the room. “Whoever it is, I don’t care! They can fuck right off again! I don’t want to see anyone! I can give it to you in writing if that’s necessary!”

“It’s not…” the nurse muttered, and left.

Frank huffed out a deep breath when he couldn’t hear her footsteps any more. They thought they could ship him off and deposit him here… well, deposited he was, and deposited he would stay. But there was no reason to put on false smiles and false niceties for this bullshit. He didn’t need and didn’t want anyone giving him pitying looks for being so damaged and broken. He didn’t need any lies about a future he knew he didn’t have any more.

In the momentary silence he listened to his racing heart, until suddenly the hissing of engines mingled with the rhythmic gushing of blood in his ears. He got up and stared out of the terrace door, at the vanishing VTOL, and he watched it become smaller and smaller until it disappeared into nothing.

* * *

“Okay,” Annie said, crossing her arms. “We obviously need another plan.”

“And what kind of plan would that be?” Adam leaned back and looked out of the window, watching the waves of the Atlantic Ocean blur past underneath. “We tried calls, texts, and even a visit in person. He obviously doesn’t want any contact.”

_“But why?”_ Malik’s voice came through the intercom. _“I don’t get it!”_

“I think he’s angry with us. With everyone.” Adam sighed. “He was convinced that we just wanted to get rid of him because we think he’s useless without augs and damaged because of the trauma.”

“What.” Annie leaned forward. “Seriously? Did he say that?”

Adam nodded. “He didn’t even want either me or Sarif accompany him to the building. I swear he looked like someone going to his own funeral. There was no convincing him that all this happened to help him.”

“Then we need to change his mind, somehow.” Annie bit her lower lips. “And make him understand we want him to get better and that we want him back.”

“Good luck with that,” Adam muttered. “He’s convinced we don’t want him, and Frank Pritchard is the most stubborn man on this planet.”

“Well.” Annie gave him a slow, one-sided smirk. “I am no man.”


	14. Chapter 14

Frank desperately wanted to lose track of time by now. But he couldn’t. He had desperately wanted to lose track of time back in prison, but every week had been clear as rain in his mind, together with the fact how slowly the days had been creeping by.

Now he was stuck here, not prison, but stored away all the same, and it was three months now with no end in sight.

He needed to distract himself because the whole day had been one pile of crap already, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. So he switched on the screen and the console, and logged into Primal Alert.

_Nucl3arsnake joined the game_

It had been weeks and he needed a moment to get his flow back. But soon he didn’t need to think any more about what to do.

_UMBR4 left the game_

_AlecLaurus joined the game_

_Eskairle joined the game_

_c0njur3r left the game_

“Fuck off, you asshole!” Frank snarled at the screen, and at himself. He had run out of ammo for his favourite gun. Classical beginner’s mistake. And now he was being chased by a security bot while trying to find its docking station to shut it down. “Fuckface! Go bother someone else, you ugly piece of garbage!”

_inkyravens joined the game_

_frozenthirdyear joined the game_

_Lakritzwolf joined the game_

“What kind of bullshit name is that?” Frank was so distracted for a moment that he almost got himself killed.

_Lakritzwolf died_

_Lakritzwolf left the game_

“Loser.” Frank huffed out a derisive little snort.

_Chaosite joined the game_

_n0b0dY_666 left the game_

_th3rm0pyl43 joined the game_

Leaning forward Frank narrowed his eyes, a smirk on his face. He had outrun three other players to the core of the lab, and the loot was all his now. There were two health packs, and Frank took a second to fist-pump.

_Fuck_The_Gods joined the game_

_zelu joined the game_

_4LPH4_404 died_

_4LPH4_404 left the game_

“Yes!! Fuck you!!” Frank glared at the screen with a manic grin after he had finally managed to kill an enhanced blade serpent on his way out. “Take that, fucker!”

_DragonFLI joined the game_

He froze, and his fingers curled so tightly around the controller his knuckles went white.

_DragonFLI: Nucl3arsnake, sup?_

_Nucl3arsnake left the game_

Frank threw the controller away. It bounced off the sofa and landed on the carpet, and he had to resist the urge to kick the thing against the wall. Then he got up, grabbed his jacket, and pushed the terrace door open. He took a deep breath, but dropped the jacket again because it was August in the south of France. If anything, he needed to take his socks off. And his shirt. And his jeans. Frank huffed out a frustrated groan and returned to his air conditioned room, closed the door behind him, and fell onto the bed.

* * *

“Seriously?!”

Annie threw up both hands and logged off. She was sitting cross-legged on Adam’s sofa, and now she also crossed her arms, staring at the screen.

“I don’t like saying this, but I told you so,” Adam said and rested his hands on the backrest of the sofa, next to her. “He’s too stubborn for that kind of thing.”

Annie frowned at the screen with gritted teeth and pursed lips. “Then we need another kind of thing.”

Adam took a deep breath and exchanged a glance with Malik who was sitting on the other end of the sofa with a coffee.

Malik only shrugged. “Don’t look at me, Jensen. I’m completely out of ideas already.”

“Well, I’m not.” Annie narrowed her eyes. Then she jumped from the sofa and skipped towards the window. She dug into her backpack and straightened up with a grin. “There may come a day when I give up on my best friend,” she said and held up an Instax camera, “but it is not this day!”

Adam exchanged a side-eyed look with Malik who snorted softly into her coffee.

* * *

After that disaster the other day Frank had not logged into Primal Alert again. He kept to single player games instead, watched movies, new and old ones, and took recreational walks in the monastery garden that he had to admit had a certain charm. He liked the flowery, herbal scent of all the medicinal and decorative flowers.

It was five days later that he came back from such a walk when there was a knock on the door. He opened, and the young guy Maurice held out a package to him.

“Mail for you, Mr Pritchard!”

Frank took the package with a frown. “Thanks.”

He closed the door and walked to the bed, checking the address, but there was no mistake.

Frank Pritchard  
La Colline EnsoleilléeI  
43000 Le Puy-en-Velay  
France

He turned the package around to look at the sender.

Annie Thorpe  
Brooklyn Court 3A  
48208 Detroit  
USA

“You just don’t get the hint, do you,” Frank hissed through gritted teeth. He dropped the package onto the bed with a sigh, and fell down next to it.

He stared at it for what had to be at least two minutes.

“And you’re relying on me being too curious to resist opening that.”

He was annoyed and angry with himself, because of course that was exactly what was happening. In the end he caved in, telling himself that no one could possibly expect him to answer to that in any way.

The package was a large padded envelope folded in half. He picked the parcel tape off to unfold it, and then a bit of sticky tape so he could open it. Inside was an envelope, and another, smaller package wrapped into a plastic bag. Frank took a deep breath and opened the envelope first.

Frank looked at a stack of Instax pictures and hesitated for a moment before he removed the elastic that held them together. The top one was face down, probably to protect the print.

It was a picture of his snake in his terrarium, curled up comfortably around the branch. Below the picture, on the frame of paper, was written in Annie’s handwriting: ‘scaly boi! he pretty!!’.

Frank couldn’t suppress a tiny smile, and picked up the next picture. It was his snake as well, but in a rather unflattering angle, full frontal, his jaws wide agape. It had probably supposed to be a portrait, and the caption read: ‘he yawn!!’ with the dots of the two exclamation marks turned into a smiley.

The third picture was the snake again, from a little farther away. A black mechanical hand was reaching into the tank but the snake made his intention clear that he did not want to be picked up. Caption: ‘cold finger thingies! no touchie!’.

Frank shook his head with a small grin and took the next picture. It was one of Annie, with her brilliant, happy smile, with the caption of ‘happy fren!!’. The next was Malik, title pictured ‘happy fren2!!’. The third was a picture of Jensen, his shades retracted, bearing the facial expression of ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this’. Frank couldn’t suppress a little snort when he saw the caption ‘grumpy fren!!’. How Annie had talked Jensen into this remained anyone’s guess.

The last picture was of them together: Jensen, Annie, and Malik, but there was a gap between Malik and Annie. The picture was a little blurry, likely from the attempt of taking the picture with the self-timer. Again, the charming titles Annie had come up with were written above the faces. Grumpy fren, happy fren, happy fren 2. Above the gap however, in larger writing, stood ‘snek fren’ with a very large, sad emoji. An arrow was pointing from these words to the gap.

Frank stared at the last picture, and something strange happened in his chest. Something that was constricting and almost painful, and that made breathing difficult. He hated it. But he couldn’t put the picture down, not until his vision was so blurry he couldn’t read the words any more.

“Fuck.” He wiped his hands down his face. “Fuck you,” he said again, but his heart wasn’t in it.

He spread the pictures out onto the mattress before him, and tried to calm his breathing. He had no idea what Annie had been thinking, or if she really had been aware of how deeply she could get under his skin with this.

Shaking his head Frank hesitated for another moment before he picked up the other package. He unwrapped it from the plastic bag and now found the same item carefully wrapped in a double layer of bubble wrap that was tied together with a lose string. Whoever had packed this had taken great pains that whatever was in it, and it felt like a book, would reach him unharmed and undamaged, short of the parcel being thrown under a truck.

There was a folded A-4 sheet slipped under the string, and Frank took it and unfolded it hesitantly. The letters were bold and rough and almost crooked, dancing across the paper as if the writer couldn’t write straight despite the lines on the paper.

_I found this when I packed your things. I don’t know if it counts as snooping around because at that point you were dead. But this seems like a book you read a lot and I thought maybe you’d like to have it. I know the feeling of having a comfort read you return to all the time. Maybe this will help you feel better or at least less bad. Take care of yourself._

_Jensen_

Frank put the letter down and picked up the book again with trembling fingers. He knew exactly what book this was, and he still unwrapped it like someone who fears having something explode into their face.

For a long moment he just looked at the beaten cover, faded gold print on worn, dog-eared paper, before he slowly opened the book on the page where the bookmark was sticking out.

_To Frankie_   
_Happy 10th birthday_   
_Love, grandma_

The lower edge of the bookmark covered a paragraph break, and Frank took a few deep, shaky breaths as he started to read.

_That was one of his most miserable moments. But he soon made up his mind that it was no good trying to do anything till day came with some little light, and quite useless to go blundering about tiring himself out with no hope of any breakfast to revive him. So he sat himself down with his back to a tree, and not for the last time fell to thinking of his far-distant hobbit-hole with its beautiful pantries. He was deep in thoughts of bacon and eggs and toast and butter when he felt something touch him. Something like a strong sticky string was against his left hand, and when he tried to move he found that his legs were already wrapped in the same stuff, so that when he got up he fell over._

_Then the great spider, who had been busy tying him up while he dozed, came from behind him and came at him. He could only see the thing’s eyes, but he could feel its hairy legs as it struggled to wind its abominable threads around and around him. It was lucky that he had come to his senses in time. Soon he would not have been able to move at all. As it was, he had a desperate fight before he got free. He beat the creature off with his hands – it was trying to poison him to keep him quiet, as small spiders do to flies – until he remembered his sword and drew it out. Then the spider jumped back, and he had time to cut his legs loose._

_After that it was his turn to attack. The spider evidently was not used to things that carried such stings at their sides, or it would have hurried away quicker. Bilbo came at it before it could disappear and struck it with his sword right in the eyes. Then it went mad and leaped and danced and flung out its legs in horrible jerks, until he killed it with another stroke, and then he fell down and remembered nothing more for a long while._

Frank slowly dropped the book and closed his eyes. Shaking his head he felt droplets run down his cheeks and drip down his chin, and he buried his face in his hands.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice thick and wet. “FUCK!”

But now he was shaking and he was crying like a fucking baby, and he eventually tore his face off his hands.

“Is that you, Grandma?” he asked the empty room as if he had finally lost the last of his marbles, which he probably had if he was talking to dead people now. “Is that you telling me I have to stop wanting something back that I can’t have? And that I got to pick up my little sword to kill the dark things that want to eat me, before I can go home?”

Before his inner eyes he saw a shattered glass of jam on a tiled floor, and he vividly remembered the misery and frustration after he had tried to make himself a sandwich with one arm in a plaster cast – which had, of course, spectacularly not worked.

_“Really, Frankie,” his grandmother said as she started to pick up the shards and jam splatters with paper towels. Her voice was mild, with only a faint note of reproach. “I know you don’t like asking for help, but sometimes you just have to.”_

Because that’s why he was here, wasn’t he? He really was here so he could get help, there was no point in hating himself and everyone and the world for being sent here. There really were people out there who were waiting for him to get better and get home.

This wasn’t the end. It had never been meant to be his end.

And now Frank found himself sitting cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by packing material, envelopes, Instax pictures and an ancient book, and he was absolutely losing his shit. And with his face buried in his hands he was crying like a child, so ashamed of his sobs and his tears that he wanted to die despite being alone in the room.

Frank had no idea how long he had been out of it like this, but by the time a nurse knocked on his door to tell him his next session with Dr Bruneau was coming up he wasn’t crying any more, but he still felt and looked like shit. The nurse gave him a worried look, but Frank just grabbed his journal and headed for Dr Bruneau’s office.

“Mr Pritchard?” She, too, gave him a worried look. “What happened?”

Frank sank into the comfy chair he usually occupied, and she sat down in the other one opposite of him.

She waited patiently until he had somehow sorted his thoughts enough to be able to talk. About the attempts of his people from back home to contact him. About the package, the pictures, the book, and by the time had finished he was bawling again, though not as bad as in his room. Dr Bruneau didn’t comment on it however and just pushed the box with Kleenex across the table so he could reach it.

“Fuck,” he muttered after wiping his eyes and nose. “This is ridiculous.”

“I can assure you, it’s not,” Dr Bruneau replied. “You may be ashamed of your tears, but they are not ridiculous. What you experiencing right now is what we call a catharsis, an important part of the healing process you are going through.”

“But bawling doesn’t change a thing!” Frank wadded the tissue onto a ball and tossed into the bin under the table. “It’s completely useless!”

“Tears are never useless, Mr Pritchard,” she said calmly. “There are situations in which they may be inappropriate, or inconvenient. But they always have a reason. They are always needed, either by your body or your soul, and denying them will always only make it worse.”

Frank didn’t know what to say to that, but eventually he looked at her again. “And what am I supposed to do now?”

“You have taken the first, most important, and most difficult step just now, Mr Pritchard. You have realised and accepted that you need help. And we are here to help you.” A small smile appeared on her face. “We can’t fight your monsters for you, Mr Pritchard. But we can help you forge your sword so you can fight them on your own. It may not be as pretty and elegant as Sting, but you will be able to kill spiders with it nonetheless.”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Frank muttered and grabbed another tissue.

“Not at all.” She leaned back and crossed her legs, still smiling. “I felt this metaphor might work for you. But whatever we call this process, our goal is the same.”

“And that goal is?” Frank asked, dropping the tissue into the bin to join the six or seven others.

“The goal is for you to heal, Mr Pritchard,” she replied with a smile. “So you can go home.”

For a moment Frank remembered the Instax picture with the gap titled snek fren :(, and he made it for all of twenty seconds before he went completely to pieces again. He just wanted to go home. But now… now there was a chance that he really could.

* * *

Adam was staring at a security camera feed with a frown. There was literally nothing wrong with it, but he didn’t have anything else to do any more, and for some reason he didn’t want to go home yet.

His phone buzzed to announce an incoming message. He picked it up and unlocked it. Two messages. From Pritchard.

> _Thanks_
> 
> _For the book_

“Don’t make a big deal of this…” he muttered to himself. “Under no circumstances make a big deal out of this…”

_Don’t mention it. You’re welcome._

He got no further reply. But the sheer fact that Pritchard had gotten in touch like this felt ridiculously momentous after all that time.

Adam was past the point of denying he missed him. He missed Pritchard a lot more than he would have been able to imagine. Back when he had been assumed dead, and still, when he was alive but at the other end of the world.

Earliest opportunity he would ask him out for a drink. And whatever happened then would be a lot less reason for regret than not doing it. He locked his phone and slipped it into his pocket, then got up and left his office and the building in a lot brighter mood than he had felt in weeks.


	15. Chapter 15

Frank had now finally accepted the fact he needed help, the fact that he got help, and that the little bit of progress he had made had largely been due to his own inability to accept his situation.

Now that he had there was no rushing it either, however.

But now that he wasn’t resenting his fate any more every waking moment of his life, he was able to make better use of his days. He tried languages first; after remembering his grandmother so vividly he tried to go back to what she had been trying to teach him when he had been little. Frank’s great-grandparents had immigrated to the US from Wales in the 1920s, and his grandmother had grown up bilingual. She had tried to teach her daughters, but Frank hadn’t heard his mother speak one word of Welsh in his life. His grandmother had then tried to teach Frank, with little to no success, and little Frankie had never managed more than a few phrases like ‘good day’ and ‘thank you’.

He had to admit defeat though pretty early on. He didn’t have any talent for languages, and the struggles weren’t worth it. He internally apologised to his grandmother as he put the language course books onto the cart for the returned books in the library, and took a walk in the monastery garden instead. With approaching autumn some of the flowers had withered by now, but the place was still beautiful.

At this point, Frank was ready to admit that he could have done a lot worse in terms of location for his rehab. Physically he was fully recovered now, and the shorn hair was long enough now to cover the scar on the side of his head. He would have to have it shaved off again should he ever get the surgery to get his implants back, but considering the gain it was a small price to pay.

He had pondered the thought; he had had long hair for most of his adult and teenage life, minus prison and the time it had taken to grow it out again. Maybe it was time for a change.

The thought of sitting down in a barber’s chair and getting a haircut however, and not even something as drastic as the buzz-cut he had gotten in prison, was not one he was able to entertain for long. So, no haircut.

He had also frequented the facility’s gym a few times. Not much and not that often because he didn’t mean to get buff, but he would need a certain leg and core muscle strength to handle his bike again. Another thing he had to look forward to. After he had initiated contact again, hesitantly and somewhat embarrassed and anxious, he had discovered that Jensen had taken care of his bike and had stored it in the parking garage of the Chiron building to keep it safe.

And that had happened at a point where he had believed Frank to be dead. Frank often mulled over the question why Jensen had kept all his belongings and adopted the snake, because Jensen had never struck him as the sentimental type. Certainly not sentimental towards his prickly, cynical, sarcastic co-worker who he could barely tolerate, and vice versa.

He wondered if they would have to unpack that at one point. Maybe, maybe not. For now he had different things to worry about. They were now phasing out his medication and it left Frank feeling a little worried about relapsing, but so far his panic attacks hadn’t returned, and the nightmares had become a rare occurrence.

The time frame of his treatment had been adjusted a few times, and the first tentative plans for him to be able to leave had been made. If things kept progressing as they were now, he would be back in Detroit before Christmas.

Frank sat down on one of the benches in the cooling shade under the colonnade, and watched butterflies dance from flower to flower. Detroit would already be nasty and dark and wet and cold at this time of year. And Frank couldn’t wait to be back.

He felt a lopsided smile on his face as he got up again. He had an assignment to finish for the first of the online courses he had signed up for at Detroit University, in the hopes of holding a college degree in information technologies and programming at one point next year, or the year after. He had no intention of leaving Sarif Industries again should he get his job back, but having that degree would be good for his ego. Though some people might argue that his ego wouldn’t need any more stroking.

But it wasn’t because he felt he needed it. He just wanted to make a point, to shove it to all those people who had told him he would never make it. He wondered if anyone had ever worked themselves through college education out of sheer spite.

Whatever the case, and whatever the cost. Frank would not crawl through life any longer with no more than a measly high school degree and a criminal record. He really was worth more than that.

Amazing how a single Instax picture and a book had changed the whole outlook of his life.

* * *

Frank made his farewells with the staff of La Colline EnsoleilléeI at the end of the second week in December. He wasn’t melancholic or nostalgic in the slightest; he had accepted the place, admitted it was a nice and good place to be, but he hadn’t bonded with any of the staff and he would not miss it. Maybe the weather, a little bit. During winter. But he’d rather take a windy Detroit summer over the stifling heat of southern France in August any time.

He had requested no company for the flight home because he knew he would feel uncomfortable being in so close proximity to anyone, and now especially, after everything that had happened. Malik’s smile had seemed honest and open enough though, and Frank felt less apprehensive boarding the VTOL as he had initially feared.

He napped a little during the extremely boring transatlantic flight, occasionally remembering how angry and afraid and frustrated he had felt on his way over. Now he was going home, at least the city he called home. He would figure out a place to live, even without Sarif’s help, but apparently Athene was already looking for apartments. Again. Frank took a moment to wonder if his worth to SI was really so great Sarif made such great expenses on his behalf, but then he remembered the conversation he had had with Sarif after leaving prison.

_“I want you on the team, Frank, and I care about my people. We’ve been over this. My people take care of my business, and I take care of my people.”_

Frank crossed his legs and looked out of the window. There was nothing to see but clouds or waves, depending on his angle, but it couldn’t be long now until he would be able to see the coast.

_“Hey F… Pritchard?”_ Malik’s voice came cheerfully through the intercom.

“Yes?”

_“Reaching the coast in a few minutes. Want to make a little swing south to wave at Lady Liberty?”_

“No, thank you,” Frank said with a little smile. “Just take me home.”

_“You got it.”_

“And...Faridah”?

_“...yes?”_

“You can call me Frank, if you want to.” Frank leaned back and crossed his arms, unable to stop himself from grinning. “You are happy friend number too, after all.”

_“To be perfectly honest? I didn’t know I was, before Annie told me.”_ A long pause. _“But I did really miss you, as weird as that sounds. Although we never had much to do with each other.”_

“I know.” Frank looked out of the window again. “But I appreciate you joining Annie’s little… scheme.”

_“Guess I figured you need another friend,”_ she replied, the smile audible in her voice. _“It’s good to have you back.”_

“It’s good to be back,” Frank replied, half to Malik, half to himself. He should start thinking of her as Faridah now, but old habits are hard to break.

_“Little more than two hours until we reach Detroit! Excited?”_

“A little bit, I guess.” Frank took a deep breath. “Considering it was at the beginning of March I was kidnapped I’ve been away the better part of a year.”

_“Right. I never thought of it in that detail.”_

“I’ll probably need some time to get settled in my job again. Whatever job that may be.”

_“You know…”_ Faridah sounded very hesitant. _“I shouldn’t be telling you this so you didn’t hear this from me, okay?”_

“My lips are sealed.”

_“Your successor? Buckner? He’s-”_

“Hang on, Buckner?” Frank leaned forward, mouth hanging open. “They put Buckner into my chair?”

_“Apparently he was the most qualified.”_

“Oh my god,” Frank fell back into his seat. “I suddenly don’t know any more if I want my old job back or not.”

_“You doubt his qualifications?”_

“Not the qualifications for his job. The execution thereof is what worries me.”

_“Yeah, office rumour is that he’s not very happy in this position. He’s not doing too bad as head of cybersecurity, but I’ve also heard Jensen complain a few times about him. Apparently he sucks at mission support.”_

Frank shook his head again and looked back out of the window. “How can you suck at that?”

_“You have to ask Jensen for details. I only know he’s not as good at pulling up information as you are, and that he has a tendency to yell.”_

“Through the infolink?” Frank felt his eyes widen.

_“Yes. Which is why Jensen was complaining.”_

“Christ.”

_“So, I think it’s safe to say Jensen is at the top of the list of people happy to have you back in your old job.”_

That thought did something strange to Frank’s mind. Jensen being happy to have him back, considering how they had griped and sniped at each other in the beginning. But then, Jensen had left no stone unturned to clear up the circumstances of Frank’s death, and had taken care of all of Frank’s things. And the snake.

Frank owed that man a lot. And he had no idea how to thank him for all of that. But he would tackle that when he had to. He wasn’t good at planning that sort of thing.

_“There’s the coast! Welcome back to the US of A!”_

“You’re acting as if I’ve been gone for years.”

_“I could imagine it felt like that for you.”_

“It did,” Frank muttered, and looked at the coastline disappearing out of sight again.

Staring out of the window, alternating between being lost in memories and being worried about what the future might hold, Frank completely lost track of time and was jerked out of his musings by the intercom.

_“ETA less than ten minutes, Frank. Sarif told me to drop you off at your hotel, and to tell you to sleep off the jet-lag. He’ll see you Monday but he’ll let you know the details.”_

“Hotel? They booked me into a hotel?”

_“You think Sarif would let you sleep under a bridge?”_

“Considering the last time he hired me, I guess I should have expected that.”

_“Don’t worry, it’s not the Ritz.”_ Faridah chuckled. _“But it seems to be a nice place. Coming into visual range now.”_

Less then five minutes later Frank had stepped off the VTOL again, on the roof of the hotel building. He recognised that place; he had spent his first week in Detroit, after prison, in this hotel.

The cockpit opened, and Faridah hopped out and walked up to him with a surprisingly broad smile.

“Welcome home, Frank.”

“Shouldn’t that be... snek fren?” Frank asked with a smirk.

“Not sure you would appreciate that nickname.” She winked.

“I’m sure Jensen will appreciate the nickname grumpy fren even less.”

Faridah snorted under breath. “You bet. He wasn’t happy at all. I don’t know why he put up with that. He really has a soft spot for you.”

There it was again, that strange feeling in his chest. He would have to unpack that as soon as possible to be able to keep his cool around the man when he saw him again.

“Looks like,” was the only thing Frank was able to say.

“And I think he’d appreciate a note from you that you landed safely.”

“I will… try and remember that.” Frank picked up his duffle bag. “Sorry, I’d love to stay and chat, but the wind up here is fucked up and I’m beat.”

“Sure. Take care. And welcome home, snek fren.” She winked again.

“Thanks, happy fren two.”

Shaking his head with a chuckle Frank headed for the access door. His room was nice, not spacious, not luxurious, but that wouldn’t have suited him anyway. He took a shower and fell into his bed after ordering room service for dinner because was too tired to go out and find food. His inner clock was still on CET, so for him it was two in the morning right now.

After he had eaten he picked up his phone to set an alarm for tomorrow so he could battle the jet lag. It was Friday, so he had two days to righten himself up again. That also meant Jensen wouldn’t be at work tomorrow, and he had something he ached to do. So he sent him a text.

_hey, I’m back, can I see my boy tomorrow?_

> _your boy?_

_yes my boy. I miss him_

It took ten minutes for him to get the next reply.

> _you mean the snake_

_ofc I mean the snake what other boys are there to see in your place?_

Frank couldn’t suppress a smirk.

> _sure you can. I’m home the whole day_

_good, I don’t know when I’ll come over because my sleep schedule is still fubar_

> _when is it ever not, Francis?_

_see you tomorrow, Jensen_

> _see you_

Frank dropped the phone onto his night stand with s snicker and fell back into the bed. It wasn’t even nine but he was absolutely shattered. But tomorrow he would finally see his boy again. He could only hope his boy hadn’t forgotten him.

* * *

Adam stared at his phone, ten minutes after Pritchard’s last message, and his face was still burning.

_You mean the snake._

“You idiot.” Adam dropped the phone and dragged a hand down his face. “You fucking idiot.”

He resisted the urge to grab himself a beer and instead headed for the bathroom to assess the state it was in. He wasn’t used to visitors, and his apartment had degenerated into a bachelor’s den during the last months. It had, to be honest, always been that, but it had gotten worse and worse lately. Together with his alcohol consumption.

Adam didn’t like thinking about the fact that the whole degenerative process had started in March. Because he hated thinking of what had happened in March. Forcing his mind off the topic he started to tidy and clean the bathroom, then the bedroom, and then the rest of the apartment, which wasn’t in as bad a state as the other two rooms. And he didn’t mean to get the place sparkling clean, but there was a dismaying amount of socks all over the place, and once he was done with the whole apartment his hamper was full. So he started a load of laundry, and then fed the snake.

“I wish I could rely on you appreciating the fact that I had to buy an extra freezer,” he said to the snake as he started to devour the freshly thawed mouse. “But you don’t seem to appreciate anything I ever did for you.”

He sounded like a disillusioned accountant in his sixties.

“Christ, you’re pathetic, Jensen,” he said to himself and grabbed a coffee instead of a beer before sitting down on the sofa.

So he really had believed, for a moment, that Pritchard was hitting on him. Which was ridiculous, of course, but that thought made Adam wonder what men Pritchard was into.

Did he like them big and dumb? Unlikely. Pritchard was too sharp to put up with a grunt who could barely string two words together. But buff? Tall? Or would he rather have a man who was lithe and elegant? Or maybe he didn’t have a preferred body type at all, and would prefer someone with an intellect and a mind as sharp as his own.

It was difficult for Adam to imagine Pritchard flirting with a guy and taking him home, but that was because he had only ever seen the business side of him, the acerbic, cynical and sarcastic part. Maybe he wasn’t always like that. Maybe he was more unguarded, more relaxed, around someone he trusted.

Maybe there were soft smiles, soft touches, a brushing of hand when someone would bring him a coffee, a head resting on someone’s shoulder who sat down next to him. Would he wear his hair down? Would he allow someone to touch his hair?

Adam had not meant to go down that road but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering how Pritchard would look at someone he cared about. How his eyes would look, fluttering shut when someone kissed him. What his face looked like when he made love. He adjusted his position on the sofa, and he really, really, tried to stop himself but his brain had other ideas.

Now he was imagining the sounds Pritchard might make in bed, soft moans, little pants, maybe a hiss or two. Was he demanding? Did he like taking control, being in control? Adam couldn’t imagine him as a pillow princess, could easily picture him on top, teasing, grinning and… that didn’t help his frame of mind at all.

Adam abandoned his coffee because if he didn’t take a really cold shower right now he would do something he would very much regret since he would have to be able to look Pritchard in the eye the very next day.

But even a cold shower didn’t help. The images of Pritchard’s face and his hands and his lips did not leave Adam’s mind, and the longer he struggled with those images, the worse it got. It was when he realised that the man he was picturing as the one giving Pritchard so much pleasure was tall, broad-shouldered, with short hair and a beard, that he couldn’t stop himself any more from grabbing his aching dick.

Adam wanted to be that man. He wanted to be the one to draw those sounds from Francis’ lips, he wanted to be the reason for that smile, he wanted that man, Christ, he wanted that man so much. Adam let his head fall against the cold, hard tiles, the ghost sensation of hands on his skin, sliding down his back, the fingers running gently along the ridges of the skin anchors of his arms, no judgement, no disgust, just acceptance. A pair of lips at the back of his neck.

A voice, a voice he only knew to be sharp and harsh, whispering softly into his ear. Whispering his name.

Adam came with a choked out moan, eyes still closed, and he remained under the cold spray of the shower until he was freezing so much he started to shiver. He didn’t look at himself as he dried off, and left the bathroom in a hurry.

He got dressed, made another coffee, and didn’t look at the snake as he passed the terrarium.

“Don’t judge me,” he muttered, and sank into the sofa. “I’m doing a lot of that myself already.”

His little crush on Pritchard was getting out of control. And Adam had no idea how to deal with that. But he had to pull himself together somehow, because tomorrow Pritchard would be here, in this very apartment, and Adam would need to find a way to not think of the fact he had been wanking off in the shower thinking of him a few hours prior.

Adam buried his face in his hands with a groan. “I’m such a dumbass.”

He could hear Pritchard’s voice in his head.

_If you’re waiting for me to disagree, Jensen, it’s going to be a long night._

The ghost of a wry smile appeared on Adam’s lips as he dropped his hands. As long as he could hear that voice again things would be okay. Everything else wasn’t really important.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just have to blow up the fourth wall with a nuke and call it a joke well made.

After having been restlessly fretting for several hours, Adam still almost jumped out of his skin when he could finally hear a knock on the door. He all but jumped up the stairs, and needed a second to calm down before he opened.

“Jensen.” Pritchard looked slightly nervous too. “Is this… okay?”

“Sure. Come in.” Adam stepped aside, and Pritchard quickly toed off his shoes and hurried down the stairs, his eyes widening almost comically when he saw the terrarium parallel to the stairs. He shrugged the jacket off and dropped it onto the sofa without looking and completely ignored it, probably didn’t even realise as it slid to the floor. He had only eyes for the snake tank.

He wasn’t wearing his usual turtleneck but a loose grey hoodie, and that was as difficult to process as the voice he was using.

“Hey…” he muttered, and opened the door. The snake, as usual, was curled up tightly at the far end of the terrarium in his usual sulky coil. “Hey, buddy…”

_Buddy?_

“Hey, it’s me…” Pritchard’s voice was low and… soft. It was hard to reconcile that voice with the man behind the desk in the Tech Lab. Pritchard now reached into the terrarium and scratched the ground with the tips of his fingers, just a little. “Hey…”

For a moment nothing happened, but when Pritchard did the soft scratching again, the snake suddenly uncurled. He slithered across the terrarium tongue flicking, and paused only for a second after having reached Pritchard’s hand before winding around his wrist.

“Hey,” Pritchard whispered again, and now his voice wasn’t only soft, it was trembling. “Hey, buddy. I missed you…”

The snake seemed to be of a similar opinion as he curled around Pritchard’s forearm, and slithered happily up his arm and shoulder to wind around his neck, head nudging into the neckline of the loose hoodie.

“Oh hey,” Pritchard whispered and rubbed his cheek against the body of the snake curling around his shoulders. “I missed you too, buddy…”

Adam didn’t know what happened to his world, because there was no reality in which he would be able to imagine Pritchard cooing at anything. But here he was. Frank Pritchard, cooing at his pet snake. _Cooing._

Pritchard reached up to adjust the position of the snake a little, his fingers gently running along the smooth, silky-looking scales. It was such a gentle touch that Adam suddenly felt like an intruder, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Pritchard’s face. He had never seen the man like this, would never have been able to imagine to ever see that face so soft, such a tender look in his eyes that were glassy with unshed tears. Those long, elegant fingers caressed the patterns on the snake, and Adam felt a strange, aching emptiness in his chest.

It was difficult to admit he was being jealous of a snake. Sort of jealous. He didn’t begrudge the animal the affection he had clearly missed, to judge by the way he curled the tip of his tail around Pritchard’s wrist. But Adam couldn’t stop looking at Pritchard’s hands and fingers, and felt a burning want to be in the snake’s place, to be at the receiving end of these touches.

Adam desperately needed something to break that spell he was under and did the first thing he could think of. “Uh, Pritchard? Would you like a coffee?”

Pritchard tensed for a moment, almost as if he had forgotten he wasn’t alone in the room, but then he nodded, not taking his eyes off the snake’s head that was rubbing against his other wrist. “Thanks.”

“Make yourself at home,” Adam said and gestured towards the sofa before he headed for the kitchen. He had to walk past Pritchard for that however, and he could have sworn he felt some cranial implants malfunctioning when he watched Pritchard _nuzzle the snake’s nose with his own_ before heading for the sofa.

And as uncomfortable as it might make him feel right now, watching Pritchard so unguarded and soft and tender – which he was sure would never have been meant for his eyes if Pritchard had been aware of his surroundings – Adam had never been so happy as he was right now about his choice to adopt the snake.

The thought of Pritchard having lost this, forever, was surprisingly painful.

He busied himself with making coffee but could not stop himself from casting an occasional glance through the open wall down towards the sofa where Pritchard was… cuddling with his snake, there was no other word for it. He was leaning against the armrest, knees drawn up, and would occasionally wipe a hand across his face. Adam remembered that at first, Pritchard had thought the snake had perished in a fire, then he had believed that after being mothballed in a facility, he would never see him again.

The coffee was done now and there wasn’t a reason to linger, so Adam grabbed the cups and headed towards the living area and the sofa again. He put the cup down onto the table, and Pritchard thanked him somewhat absent-mindedly, his full attention on the snake.

Adam kept his own cup and walked towards the window, and only now did he register the fact that Pritchard’s vintage computers were still sitting there in plain sight, next to the box with pictures. In his eagerness to reunite with his scaly friend Pritchard hadn’t noticed them, and Adam had become so used to their presence that he hadn’t really processed the fact that Pritchard eventually would. He should have put them away, in a box, or covered them with something.

Nothing for it now.

He looked at Pritchard again who was now sitting cross-legged on his sofa, in a lose hoodie, with a snake gently curling around his shoulders, and he looked so happy and relaxed like Adam had never seen him before, nor would he have been able to imagine it.

Pritchard leaned forward now to grab the coffee, and subtly re-arranged his seating position so he could sip his coffee around the snake who showed a mild interest in the cup.

“It’s coffee,” Pritchard said and nudged the snake’s head away. “You don’t like it and it’s not good for you.”

Adam turned around again to give the two more privacy, and eventually ended up in front of his own PC, checking emails and news, just to have something else to look at and think of than Pritchard and his happy face and gentle looks, looks that were not directed at him.

Deciding that he needed more coffee he got up again and headed for the kitchen. He was just about to call out to Pritchard if he wanted one too, when he realised that the empty cup sat on the table, but Pritchard was curled up into the corner of the sofa and seemed to have dozed off. Adam’s heart did something uncomfortable, but he decided to ignore that and left the kitchen again with firmer steps. Pritchard would doubtlessly be embarrassed about having fallen asleep on Adam’s sofa.

“Hey Pritchard,” he said loudly as he all but stomped down the stairs, “you want another coffee?”

By the time he had reached the sofa Pritchard was alert again, and he could pretend he hadn’t fallen asleep and Adam could pretend he hadn’t noticed.

“I guess I took up enough of your down-time.” Pritchard got up and stretched, arching his back with a yawn. That didn’t dislodge or even got the snake out of balance. It clearly was used to being a living necklace.

Pritchard looked at Adam and opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it again. Then he cleared his throat. “Jensen, I…”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Adam said quickly. “I mean I didn’t… I didn’t actually do this for you, you know?”

Pritchard frowned at him. “I know. I was dead, wasn’t I?”

“Yes.” Adam shrugged and crossed his arms. “I just… I couldn’t let go, but I don’t know why I felt I needed to hold on to all of your things. I just… I don’t know. I told Sarif I wanted your stuff and he pulled a few strings. I don’t know what I thought I’d do with it.”

Pritchard took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Whatever the reason, I’m still grateful you did it. And especially…” he ran his fingers down a part of the snake’s body, “especially that you took so good care of him.”

“Yeah, I thought… when I realised you had a snake tank it was already empty, and I went to the police to find out what happened to it. It was already in a shelter and I went there and told them to hold on to it because I was going to take it. I…” Adam rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “I may have sounded a little threatening, telling them he’d better be still there when I come back.”

Pritchard tilted his head, a crooked, but far from sarcastic smile on his face.

“I couldn’t stomach the thought of him being euthanised,” Adam went on. “I can’t imagine people who want a snake go to look for one in an animal shelter. And I thought… I wanted to keep that memory of you alive. It wouldn’t have been fair to him.”

“And that’s why I’m so grateful,” Pritchard said, his voice as gentle as his eyes as he looked at the snake around his neck. “I could have lived with losing all of my possessions, though some of that would have hurt, but the thought of him… the thought of him having died a horrible death…” Pritchard wiped his eyes. “It kept me awake at night,” he said, his voice a whisper. “You can’t imagine the feeling when you told me he was alive and well.”

Maybe Adam could. Having returned from the dead to discover Kubrick was gone, just because no one had been willing to take care of him, or even make the effort of bringing him to a shelter... it had just cut another scar right through his heart. Maybe that had something to do with him taking care of the snake. He didn’t voice the thought, however. This wasn’t about his own heartbreaks.

Pritchard huffed out a sigh and looked up at Adam again. “He looks fine. You took really good care of him.”

Adam shrugged. “No point in adopting him if I don’t know how to properly take care of a snake. I did some research, joined a few forums.”

“A lot of effort,” Pritchard remarked, his fingers still petting the snake.

“As I said, no point in not making it. I wanted him to be okay. Not die of neglect or whatever else you can do wrong.” Then Adam huffed out a wry chuckle. “Though he really is a moody prick.”

Pritchard lifted one eyebrow.

“I really tried to be nice to him, you know!” Adam said in his defence. “But he would never let me touch him, he just hissed at me and tried to bite me.”

Pritchard looked at the snake, and back at Adam. And then, without preamble, he reached out and grabbed one of Adam’s hands, closing his fingers around the black synthetic ones. He snorted.

“It’s because your fingers are cold, Jensen,” he said and dropped the hand again, unaware of how Adam’s skin was tingling, what was left of it. “Of course he doesn’t like to be touched. Hold your hands under the heat lamp for a moment. Can’t hurt yourself with that, can you?”

Feeling like the greatest moron but still wanting a chance to actually be able to touch the snake, Adam reached into the snake tank and held his hand under the heat lamp, waiting until the sensors told him he had reached normal human body temperature. He lingered for a moment longer to make sure his fingers were warm, but not hot, and then stepped away from the terrarium. He cautiously reached for the snake that hissed again at him, as usual, but then Pritchard rested his palm under the snake’s head and held it out to Adam like an offering.

Adam cautiously reached out and touched the back of the snake, and after an initial tightening and a hiss, the snake relaxed again. Adam felt a smile spread on his face that he was unable to suppress. He didn’t have as much tactile sensation in his fingers as his organic hands had had, but it was still enough to feel the silky texture of the scales. And for once, the snake didn’t mind.

“Feels gorgeous,” he muttered, and lowered his hand again to not outstay his welcome as his fingers couldn’t stay warm like that.

“I know,” Pritchard said with a proud smile, and unwound the snake from his neck.

Adam took a step towards the window as Pritchard headed for the snake tank, but the snake seemed rather reluctant to let himself be manhandled into the terrarium again. Whenever Pritchard had dislodged one end of the snake from one arm, the other end had curled around the other arm again.

“Come on, buddy,” Pritchard muttered. “I missed you too, but I can’t stay here forever. I’m coming back, I promise.” Eventually Pritchard had managed to separate himself from the snake and after closing the terrarium door, he kept looking wistfully at the snake for a while, watching the animal curl around the branch under the heat lamp again.

“Jensen,” he began, somewhat hesitantly, and turned around again. “I know you didn’t do this for me, but you did it for him, and I’m… I’m really grateful.”

“It’s okay,” Adam replied.

Pritchard looked at his snake again. Adam wouldn’t have been overly surprised if Pritchard would blow the snake a kiss, but it would short-circuit what was left of his brain.

“Pritchard,” he said then, deciding he may as well use the moment to satisfy his curiosity. “I didn’t know his name, and had no way of finding out, so I gave him one. But what is his name?”

“His name?” Pritchard turned around again, and that smile was more of a smirk, but an amused one, not a sarcastic one. “You went and gave him a name?”

“I couldn’t keep calling him snake.” Adam shrugged. “So I… uh.”

Pritchard tilted his head, and Adam suddenly felt extremely self-conscious about his choice and how he had gotten to it. But there was no way back now, was there?

“When I packed your things,” he began hesitantly. “There were a lot of old games and stuff, and I thought… well…”

“An old video game character,” Pritchard finished for him, with a strange smile that Adam could not categorise.

“Yeah so, there is this old game that came out the year you were born and-”

“No way,” Pritchard said, and pressed his lips together. “You didn’t.” And he pressed the back of his hand against his lips.

“Didn’t do what,” Adam asked, with a slight note of despair he couldn’t suppress.

“You did not…” Pritchard unsuccessfully tried to suppress a snort. “You did not actually call my snake… Duke Nukem, did you?” He snorted again, this time without making an attempt at stopping himself.

Adam crossed his arms and tried not to scowl.

“You did, didn’t you?” Pritchard’s eyes widened and he shook his head, and a grin began to appear on his face that widened with ever word he said. “You really did call my snake… Duke Nukem?”

“What’s so funny about that?!” Adam dropped his arms.

Pritchard was unable to reply because he burst out laughing.

Adam had, at one point, or at several points, thought that he would be fine with Pritchard laughing at him as long as he just got to see him laugh. He had to discover that he wasn’t actually completely fine, but still, seeing and hearing Pritchard laugh out so loud and free was a sight he didn’t want to forget, ever.

“Oh my god, Jensen…” Pritchard took a few deep breaths and rubbed his hands across his face. “Sorry. I’m sorry! I didn't mean to laugh at you it’s just…” He dropped his hand again. “It’s adorable that you tried to hard, really.” He snorted again. “But… Duke Nukem?”

Adam too a deep breath and shrugged again.

“Look, okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Pritchard took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “I really shouldn't laugh at you for making an attempt to do something you thought might be in my spirit. I really appreciate it. It’s just… if you knew the game you would understand why I thought this is funny. He is nothing like the Duke.” Pritchard pointed at his snake. “Believe me. He’s far too chill for that.”

“Then why laugh like that?” Adam asked, still slightly miffed.

“I…” Pritchard cleared his throat. “I might have over-reacted a little. I’m sorry.” He looked at the snake again, and back at Adam. “Maybe it’s because I was so… am so… relieved. And happy.”

Their eyes met, and Adam felt his throat go dry. Fuck if Pritchard wasn’t right about that. His eyes had never been so bright. And so beautiful. He felt his heart stumble in his chest, and he had to do something right now. And not what he wanted to do.

What he wanted to do was close the distance between them and kiss that beautiful smile on Pritchard’s lips. But he couldn’t. After this, after having seen how incredibly emotional Pritchard had been and still was, Adam could not allow himself to make a move like that. He did not, under no circumstances, want Pritchard to think he wanted to initiate sex as an expression of gratitude. So instead he did the next best thing he could think of.

“So, what is his name then?”

Pritchard blinked hastily a few times and licked his lips. It looked nervous, his eyes flicking back to the snake tank before he looked at Adam again, but not into his eyes.

“His name is Denton,” Pritchard said then. “It’s a video game character, but it’s not…”

“Not Duke Nukem, I get it.”

“No.” Pritchard smiled again, a wry smile, but there was no ridicule in it, or in Pritchard’s eyes. “The game is younger too, it’s from the year two thousand, but the story is set in the far future of twenty fifty-two. You should try it some time, Jensen, you would like it. The protagonist kicks some serious ass and wears shades all the times, too.”

“I’m not much of a gamer,” Adam replied. “As you may have noticed.”

To Pritchard’s credit he did try not to laugh again, but couldn’t suppress a grin. Then his eyes softened again. “Jensen, really, I’m sorry I laughed so hard. I really appreciate all you did, especially for Denton.”

“It’s… It’s okay.”

“Well.” Pritchard cleared his throat again and turned around. “Oh.” Apparently he only realised now his jacket had landed on the floor, and he picked it up. “I really should leave you to enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

“It’s not as if I had plans,” Adam replied. “But you’re welcome to come and visit your buddy any time.”

“Thanks, Jensen.” Pritchard shrugged his jacket on. “Also for the coffee.”

Adam just made a dismissive gesture as he followed Pritchard up the stairs.

He didn’t want Pritchard to go. He wanted to sit down on the sofa with him, he wanted Pritchard’s hands on him, just for those gentle caresses and tender touches he had seen. He wanted those long, elegant fingers in his hair. He wanted to curl up and hold and protect this man who had been put through so much.

He forced himself to stand still and several feet away from Pritchard as he put on his shoes.

“Well, Jensen, thanks for the invitation. I might take you up on it and drop by tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

“It’s fine. As I said, I usually have no weekend plans, and I definitely have none this weekend.”  
“Great!” There was that bright smile again for a moment. Adam wanted to taste it. “I see you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow, Pritchard.” Adam managed not to slam the door shut behind him, but it was a near thing.

Then he fell with his back against the door, and buried his face in his hands with a groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Precious snek boop!](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/98ce36_05c6bbeaebab4e6fab07d496788618f2~mv2.png/v1/fill/w_632,h_843,al_c,q_95/98ce36_05c6bbeaebab4e6fab07d496788618f2~mv2.webp) by my friend [AlecLaurus](https://twitter.com/AlecLaurus)
> 
> [Another precious snake boob](https://twitter.com/zeluchan/status/1345734198900842496?s=20), together with an enamored Adam!


	17. Chapter 17

Adam had managed to remember the vintage PCs, and while he had not removed them he had pushed them together towards the edge of the table, and put a few stacks of books and one of his guns that he had been tinkering with onto the table as well. Now they looked like two objects of interest among others, and not like a ‘Pritchard altar’ as Annie had called it, to Adam’s great chagrin.

Pritchard showed up shortly after noon, and he immediately bee-lined towards the terrarium again without looking anywhere else. This time Adam joined him on the sofa, sitting at the other end, and sipped his coffee while watching Pritchard coo at his snake. 

At one point Pritchard noticed Adam watching, but after a moment’s hesitation gave him a wry smile and focused back on his snake. His face remained soft, his voice gentle, but this time Adam didn’t feel like an intruder, as Pritchard had acknowledged his presence and consciously decided to keep his emotional guard down. 

And despite them sitting at the separate ends of the sofa, as far away from each other as possible, Adam felt that this was one of the most intimate moments he had ever experienced, his time with Megan included. Intimacy and sex, he discovered now, weren’t necessarily the same, although even thinking of sex in general was already making sitting still really difficult right now. 

But then Pritchard chuckled, because the snake had, probably accidentally though it had looked intentional, tickled Pritchard’s nose with its tongue. 

Adam couldn’t suppress a smile. “You know Pritchard, I’m honestly not fishing for compliments or gratitude, but I am really glad I adopted him.”

“So am I.” Pritchard looked up at him. “I couldn’t… I don’t want to imagine him gone.”

Adam thought of Kubrick, and sighed.

“Jensen?”

“Hm?” 

Adam looked up, to see Pritchard give him a questioning, almost worried look. 

“You looked incredibly sad just now. Did I say something wrong?”

“What?” Adam shook his head. “No. Just… memories. We had a dog, you know? Megan and I. She kept him after we broke up, but only because I didn’t have enough space and lived in a no-pets apartment.”

“And…” Pritchard seemed hesitant to ask.

“He’s gone,” Adam said, his voice heavy. “Just an email. A fucking email to tell me, hey I’m sorry, Megan is gone and I didn’t know if you’d wake up. Just… like that.”

Pritchard stared at him, eyes wide in dismay. “Christ, Jensen… I had no idea there was a dog… I’m so sorry.”

Adam could only shrug. “I mean I understand if no one could take him, but they could at least have brought him to a shelter instead of putting him down.”

“I’m sorry, Jensen,” Pritchard said again. “I mean, it’s not as if I could have taken him, but I knew more than anyone else about your… progress, and probable return. If I had known…” He sighed. “I don’t know. I’d like to think that if I had known about the dog, I would have done something.”

“I think you would have,” Adam said with a sad smile. “You know how it feels to have a pet that you love.”

Pritchard ran his fingers over the snake’s head. “I do,” he muttered. “I’m really sorry, Jensen, for what it’s worth.”

“He’s gone, nothing I can do about that,” Adam replied. He had come to terms with the loss, but occasionally thinking about it hurt. “I’m just glad I could… I could spare someone else that feeling.”

Pritchard remained silent, staring at his snake, but Adam could see his eyes glistening. He looked into his empty cup, and tried to force his mind away from the matter. There was no point, there was no bringing Kubrick back. And he really was glad he could spare someone else that feeling. He took a deep breath, and leaned forward. 

“Another coffee?”

“No, thanks.” Pritchard looked up at him. “I should be going. I got a list of possible apartments from Athene, and I wanted to do some neighbourhood scouting today to narrow down the list.”

“Good luck with that.” Adam got up and grabbed Pritchard’s empty cup as well. “I hope you can get out of that hotel and into your own place soon.”

“So do I.” Pritchard got up and headed for the snake tank. Denton still was reluctant to be put back, but eventually let himself be convinced he had to let go of Pritchard’s arms. 

Adam saw him out, and once the door was closed he went into the kitchen to put the cups into the dishwasher. He remembered his resolution of asking Pritchard out for a drink earliest opportunity, but despite having had the chance twice now, he hadn’t done it. He was just worried, still, that Pritchard might read any advances on Adam’s side as wanting payment. And Adam appreciated the shift in their relationship to something warmer too much to jeopardise it.

After grabbing himself a beer from the fridge Adam headed down towards the sofa again, and fell down in the corner where Pritchard had been sitting until moments before. He felt ridiculous, and pathetic, but the only one who was here to see was Denton who wouldn’t tattle on him. 

Adam took a sip of beer and closed his eyes.

* * *

Since Pritchard wasn’t an employee at this point he needed a visitor’s pass to enter the building, and Adam waited for him in the lobby the next morning, the pass already printed and ready for Pritchard to sign. Pritchard entered the lobby exactly five minutes before the agreed-on time, and Adam watched him look around with mild apprehension, as if he expected everyone to stare at him because of what happened last time. 

Neither Sarif nor Adam had spoken one word about the incident however, so no one but the three of them knew anything, apart from Athene who always handled everything with professional confidentiality. 

“Pritchard.”

“Jensen.” 

Pritchard smiled, a narrow thing that Adam recognised. It was Pritchard’s public smile, the one between him and the rest of the world. Adam felt strangely honoured, having been allowed to see Pritchard’s unguarded side. 

“You gotta sign here.” Adam shoved the pass across the receptionist’s desk. “But you won’t need a visitor pass much longer.”

“Let’s hope not,” Pritchard replied as he clipped the visitor’s pass to his jacket. 

“As far as I know the paperwork has already gone through HR,” Adam explained on their way to the escalator. “Seeing as your contract wasn’t terminated by you handing in your notice or SI having fired you, they could apparently dig it all out again.”

“They could?”

“Don’t ask me about the legal logistics of that,” Adam said and shook his head. “They still need a few signatures, but you’ll get your old position back.”

“And Buckner?” Pritchard frowned at him. “What about him?”

“Not privy to the boss’ thought and plans on this,” Adam replied. “But as far as I can say even Buckner will be happy to have you back in your old job.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Pritchard muttered and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. 

They stopped in front of the Tech Lab, and Adam couldn’t even begin to guess what might be going on in Pritchard’s head now, seeing another name next to the door. Then Pritchard pulled his hands out of his pockets and rolled his shoulders before entering the Lab with slow and almost hesitant steps.

He stopped and stared at the second desk that was set up against the wall where the VR bike had been, facing the main desk across the room. The sofa was now pushed against the wall in the far left corner of the room, and while the monitor arch was still there it had been moved a little to provide the sofa with enough space. Pritchard looked around with a deepening frown. 

Before he could voice any complaints however Buckner had noticed them, and he almost jumped out of his chair.

“Man, Pritchard!” He was beaming, grinning like a lunatic. “It’s so good to see you back!”

“Buckner.” Pritchard nodded. “Good to be back. How are things going?”

“Absolutely crazy, man, but you know that better than anyone, right?”

“Right.” Pritchard crossed his arms. “I would have been surprised if you hadn’t said that.”

Adam remained silent and just observed Pritchard being Pritchard again, a completely different man from the one who had been sitting on Adam’s sofa cuddling with a snake and sipping coffee. 

Buckner seemed a little confused, unsure if he had just been insulted or not, or if he should feel insulted. But before Adam could think of something to say to de-escalate the situation should the need arise, Sarif entered the Tech Lab. 

“Frank! Good to see you back!”

Pritchard nodded. “How ‘back’ am I actually, at this point?”

“That’s why we’re here, to discuss the transition. I have your paperwork ready.” Sarif gestured at Buckner. “I’ve also had Chris prepare all the necessary files, and a few round-up reports on what happened throughout the last months.”

“And Buckner?” Pritchard looked at the man in question. “What about him?”

“He’ll be one of the members of staff that move with the latest expansion,” Sarif said. “We’ve reached a critical threshold and we’re moving the production of cranial implants and biochips into a new manufacturing site. Chris is going to be the head of the IT department there, and responsible for the cybersecurity. I’ve employed someone for that job at Milwaukee Junction too.”

Pritchard looked back and forth between Buckner and Sarif, and his frown deepened. “So what… am I supposed to do, then?”

“Frank.” Sarif took a step towards him. “You’re still going to be head of IT and cybersecurity here in house, and head of cybersecurity of Sarif Industries. But there will be someone at each side, and they will report to you. You will have the last word and are the main decision maker in all security concerns and upgrades, and can offer aid if needed.”

“But… I did all that before, and I-”

“Frank, please.” Sarif gestured around in the Tech Lab. “I don’t know how aware of this you are, or want to be, but your time in France was clearly good for you in more than one way.”

“And what do you mean with that?” Pritchard cut in sharply, crossing his arms tighter in front of his chest. 

“A few month with regular meals and a regular sleep schedule did wonders for you,” Sarif went on, as if uninterrupted. “You look ten years younger, Frank. You clearly had too much on your shoulders here. And I don’t mean to say that you’re not capable of this, because I know you are. But Frank.” Sarif’s voice became more insistent. “We had to create a new position as assistant to the head of cybersecurity.” He gestured at the second desk. “I had two people do your job while you were away, Frank, and they both had their hands full!”

Pritchard pressed his lips together and his eyes flicked back and forth between Buckner and Sarif. He looked cornered, when in truth, Sarif had offered nothing but praise. 

“Pritchard, don’t get this wrong,” Adam said, keeping his voice as calm as possible. “What the boss means is that we’re impressed with what you did. But you shouldn’t have to keep on doing it.”

“Exactly. Thanks, Adam.” Sarif smiled, and Pritchard, after giving Adam a long look, began to relax again. “It’s not sustainable, Frank. Sooner or later you’ve worn yourself into a burnout, and then what? It’s not necessary for you to do everything, and you will have to learn to delegate, I realise that. I don’t know what to say…” He sighed. “I should have realised sooner what kind of workload you had on your plate. And I’m suspecting that you didn’t log half as many overtime hours as you actually did.”

Frank looked at the floor and shifted his weight from one foot to the other before he looked up again. “I needed to get it done,” he said. “And if I had logged all those hours…”

“We’d have send you home, and rightly so,” Sarif said with a smile. “That’s why we’re rearranging workloads and responsibilities. So you can get your job done and keep normal working hours.”

“Fine,” Pritchard said after a moment with a somewhat fatalistic sigh. “I guess it makes sense. But what if… something goes wrong?”

“In another facility you mean?” Sarif was still smiling. “You don’t need to be physically there to do damage control, or offer assistance, do you?”

Now Pritchard’s shoulders sagged, and he relaxed his arms again, although he still didn’t uncross them. “I won’t,” he said. “Guess this means I’ll be reading a lot of reports, right?”

Sarif nodded and crossed his arms as well, but pointed at Frank with his augmented hand, an amused grin on his face. “Yes, and you have an assistant to do some of the pesky data recovery and password routines, and all the things you kept complaining about. How does that sound?”

Pritchard finally dropped his arms with a wry chuckle. “That sounds fantastic. And who is the lucky person who drew the jackpot of working with Frank Pritchard?”

“I don’t think you’ll be having a problem with her.” Sarif looked at Buckner. “Where is she, by the way?”

“Her turn today to do the coffee run – ah, here she is!”

Annie entered the Tech Lab with two paper cups, and a huge, bright grin spread on her face when she spotted Pritchard. 

“Frank!”

“Annie?” Pritchard's whole posture relaxed significantly. A lot of his tension seemed to have been caused by the second desk in his office. “You are… my…”

“Assistant!” She nodded. “Yes!”

“Adam mentioned her,” Sarif said, with an indulgent, fatherly smile. “Back when we still thought you were dead. Annie had confided in him that you were planning on giving me a report on her to get her a job, so I kept my eye on her for a while. And when I decided we need a second hand on deck, she was the logical choice.”

“That’s great.” The smile on Pritchard’s face was still a far cry from what Adam knew now he was capable of, but it was a lot more open and honest, even if the lines around his mouth and between his eyebrows hadn’t vanished completely. 

“Okay,” Buckner said then, and patted a pile of pocket secretaries on his desk. “Here are the reports we’ve been talking about. We planned a five day transition period, from today on, so from next Monday onward, the office is all yours again.”

Annie pointedly cleared her throat, but she was still smiling. 

“I mean, obviously, the office and the assistant.” Buckner grinned. 

Adam looked at Buckner, making no effort to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Buckner, I thought we made that clear what I think of you insinuating things involving Pritchard and the intern.”

“I wasn’t!” Buckner threw up his hands. “I swear! It was a joke, man!”

“Some things don’t work well as jokes,” Adam said in a cold voice. “Not if you don’t want to start rumours that are impossible to get rid of.”

“Right! Alright!” Buckner shook his head with a sigh. “Sorry!”

Pritchard slowly turned his head to look at Adam, his eyebrows rising. “Did he think I had a thing going on with an intern?” He pointed at Annie. “With this intern?”

“He seemed to think it, yeah.”

Pritchard and Annie looked at each other for a second, and simultaneously snorted.

“Well,” Annie drawled. “I don’t have a girlfriend who could be pissed about that, and I know Frank doesn’t have a boyfriend, but if he had one he’d be pissed about that remark as well, so... I think we all best pretend this conversation never happened.”

Buckner, all eyes on him now, looked like someone who wants the ground beneath him open up to swallow him whole. He nodded, and slunk back behind his desk. 

Frank shook his head with a mirthless chuckle and grabbed one of the reports. “These start right after I was kidnapped, don’t they?”

“Chronologically, in months, starting with March.” Buckner didn’t look up from his screen. “So there should be nine in all.”

Pritchard nodded and skimmed over the first report. Then he took the next one, and skimmed through that as well. 

“Took you a while to get your hands on them, Jensen.”

“On who?” Adam asked, mildly confused.

“Who?” Frank slowly put the report down. “The bastards who kidnapped me? Jonas’ gang?”

Adam took a deep breath and shook his head. “We lost them.”

“You what?!” Pritchard’s eyes widened to a worrying degree. “You mean the people who kidnapped me and shoved a torture device into my brain and forced me to hack into the top secret data servers are still running around somewhere?! Are you kidding me!!”

“Pritchard…” Adam lifted his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture. “When I arrived at the place they had already pulled out, everyone but that Jonas guy.”

“Yeah, I know that!” Pritchard spun around. “And you didn’t monitor the place?!”

“I did!” Buckner looked up, cheeks glowing with anger and embarrassment. “I lost them! They were too fast! Should I have hacked into military satellite data?”

“Should…” Pritchard threw up his hands. “Fuck you!”

“Frank,” Sarif said sternly. “Chris did what he could.”

“Yeah brilliant!” Pritchard’s face was pale, and his eyes far too wide. “Well done! Those people know who I am! They know how I look! They know where I work and they know where I live! Jonas wasn’t the only hacker in that group, and they still have the surgeons who did this to me!!” He thrust a finger out and stabbed into the side of his head where the short hair still barely covered the scars. “And deciding that time wasn’t an issue any more they even got what they wanted! Use force and pull out, and if Jensen hadn’t shown up in literally the last second they would have gotten away with it!” 

“Frank…”

Pritchard opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to yell at Sarif too, but then he snapped his mouth shut and closed his eyes. He took a few very deep breaths, and uncurled his hands. It looked very much like a technique he must have been taught in France, because when he opened his eyes moments later, he no longer looked on the verge of a panic attack. 

“My point,” Pritchard said now, voice a lot calmer too, “is that they might try it again. Maybe not with me, but who knows if I wasn’t just the test run? They might try it with another company. And maybe the leader of that group is dead, but there were no grunts for the heavy lifting involved in that venture. I can’t imagine they just disbanded like that. I’ve seen them work.”

“That is worrying indeed,” Sarif said thoughtfully. “I guess that means we all know what your first task is going to be once you’re back in the saddle.”

“I guess.” Pritchard pointedly did not look at Buckner again. “Was I scheduled for the psych eval today, by the way? Because I’m feeling a little stressed right now.”

“That is planned for tomorrow.” Sarif smiled at him. “And if it would make you feel better, or less stressed, we can assign a security detail to your apartment until we’ve caught those bastards.”

Pritchard closed his eyes again, gritting his teeth. He took another deep breath before opening them again and sighed. “I don’t like that thought, but I guess I can’t go and sleep in my office until that happens.”

“We figure that out, Frank.” Sarif nodded at Adam. “If push comes to shove you can have your personal bodyguard.”

Pritchard looked at Adam, and Adam just inclined his head a little, with a wry smirk. Truth to be told, he would rather be Pritchard’s bodyguard than have anyone else do it. 

“I don’t think I’d enjoy having one of your goons breathing down my neck all the time, Jensen.” Pritchard crossed his arms and tilted his head.

“Guess you have to put up with me then, Pritchard,” Adam replied. “Because I’m not letting you get kidnapped again.”

There was a very tense moment of charged silence in the Tech Lab, until Pritchard dropped his arms with a shake of his head, a faint, wry smile on his lips. 

“Could be worse,” he said. “At least with you I don’t have to worry about getting small-talked all the time.”

“Great!” Sarif clapped his hands. “That’s settled then. Now come along, Frank. We got the paperwork to settle.”

Adam followed Pritchard and Sarif out of the Tech Lab, but the rest wasn’t his business any more, so he headed back towards his own office. He fell into his chair with a groan and rubbed his fingers across his forehead. 

Spending even more time with Pritchard alone had not been part of his plan about avoiding getting too close to him. But as uncomfortable the thought made him, he still would rather keep Pritchard safe himself than trust anyone else to protect him. And since Pritchard had a very strong interest in finding those people as fast as possible, he wouldn’t have to put up with Adam in his proximity for long. 

Adam huffed out a heavy breath. 

Hopefully.


	18. Chapter 18

After so long a time sitting down in his chair again felt strange. Not in a bad way, but Frank knew he would need some time to adjust. But it also felt good to be back, to have his life back, and not worry about having no place to live or no food on his plate.

What he could not get used to, at least not anytime soon, was having someone to delegate password recovery to. Annie needed to keep reminding him several times during his first week that it was now her who was supposed to deal with the condensed incompetence of Sarif Industries. But since she was a lot more diplomatic and had a lot more patience – although Frank wondered how long that would last with all the idiots surrounding them – people left the Tech Lab in far less of a bad mood than before.

He also needed only to do half as many coffee runs since he and Annie took turns, and since he had finally someone around on the same level of intellect and knowledge who was extremely useful to have around, Frank’s new work routines was a lot more pleasant all around.

But in between the usual watchdog duties and firewall maintenance he took his time to teach Annie as much as he could. He knew that at one point Sarif would insist on him taking his leave days, and he had always balked at the notion, afraid of what he would come back to. Usually, rightly so, but now he had someone competent to take over in his absence. Having regular weekends felt unfamiliar, but the thought of just hopping onto his bike on any Saturday morning and forgetting about everything until Sunday night was beckoning with a delightful expectation of freedom, one he had almost forgotten about.

He now had just gotten used to not having to do everything himself, even though letting go of certain jobs still made him twitchy. He had enjoyed regular hours a lot more than he would have expected, though. He and Annie had gotten a lot closer in meatspace too, and twice had spent a Friday night in Annie’s favourite gay bar.

But while Annie did her best to hit on anyone she found attractive, Frank suddenly and unexpectedly had no such desire any more. He noticed guys that he found remotely good-looking, that he would have tried to pick up before, but he didn’t do anything about it. He just wasn’t in the mood.

Frank wondered what had caused that change. He wasn’t interested in a long time relationship with all the bother and commitment. But one-night-stands had lost all appeal, because he found something that didn’t suit him about any guy that tried to hit on him.

Usually his answer was ‘you’re not my type’, but he had to discover he had no idea any more what his type was. He had never been into hunks of meat, but somehow the shoulders weren’t broad enough, the chest not toned enough, the voice annoying, or any other reason why he didn’t feel attracted.

When Annie joined him again at their table that evening, equally unsuccessful and mildly frustrated, she propped up her chin in her hands and gave Frank a long look.

“You’re not doing anything.”

“I’m drinking and observing. And by the way, that girl with the red shirt keeps looking at you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Annie rolled her eyes. “She told me I’d look gorgeous with a black silky collar around my neck and I noped out so hard.”

“Gross.” Frank took a sip of his beer. “No luck tonight either.”

“You’re not even trying, Snake.” Annie narrowed her eyes. “You’re just sitting here in your own personal bubble of gloomy boredom.”

Frank could only shrug. “Just nothing interesting on offer.”

“Didn’t know you were so choosy. I remember you telling me that you usually find someone interesting and attractive enough to take home.”

“Well.” Frank shrugged. “Maybe I raised my standards a little.” He took another sip of his drink. “Maybe too high.”

“Hmmmm…” Annie tilted her head after dropping her arms. “You know, now that you mention it, I don’t see any tall guy here with broad shoulders and narrow hips who’s well groomed and looks like he could throw a car while telling you in a low gravelly voice that you should-”

“Fuck you!” Frank said, feeling utterly scandalised and cornered at the same time.

“Look into my eyes, Frankie boy, and tell me I’m wrong.”

“Don’t call me that,” Frank muttered, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, and buried his nose in his glass.

“You could just admit you have a thing for him and accept it.”

“I don’t have a thing for Jensen.”

“I didn’t say who, Snake.”

Frank huffed. “You described him well enough.”

“But you’re hip deep in the river denial so please don’t think about sitting down.”

Frank closed his eyes. “I hate everything about you.”

“No you don’t.” Annie took a dainty sip of her G&T.

“I don’t,” Frank said with a heavy sigh of defeat.

“I mean there’s nothing wrong with that,” Annie went on while drawing patterns in the condensation on her glass with the tip of her finger. “Because he clearly has a thing for you.”

“He does?” Frank snorted. “I doubt that.”

“Then explain to me why he allowed me to take a picture of him with his shades down and call him grumpy friend just to cheer you up.”

Frank opened his mouth to reply, but he could not think of anything to say. After a moment he closed it again with a frustrated grunt.

“I told you that you should hit on that guy with a hammer.”

“And I told you I was thinking about it.” Frank emptied his glass. “And I am thinking about it.”

“Yeah, because you never said you’d do something about it. Really.” She huffed. “So are you going to do something about it or do Faridah and I have to lock you two up somewhere with a bottle of lube?”

“Christ, Annie, what do I have to do to make you shut up?”

“Duh! Hook up with Adam, obviously!”

Frank looked into his empty glass. “Can we go home now?”

“Frank.” Annie sighed and reached out to take one of his hands. “You’re just making yourself miserable.”

“Annie, you know what?” Frank looked up at her. “We just started to get along. He took care so well of Denton and he allowed me into his private space to visit him. And I don’t want to ruin that and make things awkward.”

“I told you he has a thing for you too!”

“Last time I checked he had a girlfriend.”

Annie threw her hands up with a growl. “Do I have to paint the bi flag onto your face or will a post-it on your desk suffice? Really, Frank! You’re as thick as a short plank.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to hit on him?” Frank looked up at her again. “Please do me the favour and don’t go meddling in this.”

She looked at him for a long moment, and then she sighed. “I don’t like watching you make yourself miserable.”

Frank could only shrug. “I’d rather be miserable and get along with Jensen than be miserable because I don’t get along with him any more. And now I’d really appreciate if we could change the topic.”

Annie sighed again. “Okay. Okay. But Frank…”

“Annie…” Frank sighed as well.

“Okay.” She emptied her glass. “Time to go home?”

Frank nodded, and the two left the bar again.

Back at home Frank tossed around restlessly in his bed, and eventually gave up on sleep. He left his bedroom and padded over to the snake tank, and remembered the discussion he had had with Jensen after they had moved the snake tank to Frank’s new apartment.

_“I’m going to miss him a little bit, but he’s clearly better off with you.”_

_“And I think he could have done a lot worse than ending up with you, Jensen.”_

Fine, so he had a bit of a thing for Jensen. Who in his right mind wouldn’t, looking at him.

Frank also remembered that strange, tense moment of eye contact in Jensen’s apartment that had made his throat go dry.

“Am I really being the idiot here for trying to keep the status quo?” he asked Denton. He didn’t expect a reply, of course, but Frank did wonder what kind of reply his friend would have given him.

Eventually he headed back to bed, but the very vivid memory of Jensen’s arms around him after he had found Frank in Jonas’ facility kept him awake until the small hours of the night.

* * *

Sarif approached Frank first thing on Monday morning, shortly after he had settled down with his coffee.

“Do you have a moment, Frank?”

“I guess.” Frank looked up from his screen. Annie was already busy with a password recovery email that had come in during the weekend.

“I wanted to talk about your augmentations,” Sarif said. “I guess you’d like them back?”

“I do,” Frank replied truthfully. “But does it have to be now? Because I’m still trying to get eyes on Jonas’ gang, and I don’t think I can afford being out of commission for two or three months.”

“Good point,” Sarif replied with a nod. “And you’re doing well without them.”

Frank shrugged. “You know, I have been thinking that with my new work load I might not actually need them any more, but I don’t know what emergencies might come up. I would definitely feel better if I have them.”

“And you’ll get them, as soon as you’re ready.” Sarif gave him a benevolent smile. “So you better put your nose to the grindstone.”

“Trust me, I am.” Frank gave him a wry, lopsided smile. “The sooner I’ll get them out of my mind, the better.”

“And the sooner you don’t need anyone to walk you to and from work any more, even better.”

Frank could only agree to that, from the bottom of his heart. He watched Sarif leave and was waiting for a quip of two coming from Annie, but she only cast him a quick look over her screen and focused back on her work.

Truth to be told, finding Jensen at his door every morning wasn’t half as annoying as he had expected it would be, and having him at his side on his way home was a relief he wasn’t able to deny. That left him a lot of time to be in Jensen’s immediate proximity however, and he never failed to notice the stiffness and discomfort the man radiated all the time. It was the sheer opposite of what Frank had seen those two days he had been hanging out at Jensen’s place to visit his snake, and he didn’t know what to make of it. But it was enough for him to not go through with his plan of hitting on him.

In all, considering everything going on, the sooner Frank would be able to deal with Jonas’ gang, the better.

* * *

Adam was just thinking about coffee when he heard his infolink crackle.

_“Jensen?”_

He could not quite identify the feeling that jolted through him as he heard Pritchard’s voice, after so long a time.

“Pritchard?”

_“Can you come see me in the Tech Lab? I finally got a lead.”_

Them. The gang that had kidnapped and tortured him. About time, because Adam’s hands itched, metaphorically, every time he thought of them. “On my way.”

Pritchard was staring at his screen as Adam entered the Tech Lab, and looked up at him with a grin that was both angry and satisfied as he took off a headset.

“I went back to places I haven’t frequented in years, with good reason.” Pritchard leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “But after calling in a few very old favours, I finally got the lead I was looking for. They relocated their operation south, to New Orleans.”

“New Orleans. That could have been worse.”

“Indeed. I haven’t found them as such, I’m still trying to dig them up. Also, I can only hope that little nugget was the truth, of course. I just wanted to give you a heads-up because without the implants I can’t guarantee I’m fast or stealthy enough to find them without getting noticed, and things will have to happen really fast in that case.”

“Noted. But why didn’t you get the implants before hunting them?”

Pritchard sighed. “There’s a really good chance I am better than any of them and that they won’t detect me. But getting my implants now would mean being on sick leave for at least two months, Jensen. Two months without any peace of mind, and two months more for them to decide to move again, this time without leaving a trace and making it infinitely harder to track them.”

“So you sacrificed safety for speed.” Adam crossed his arms. “Not judging you. I think I’d have done the same.

Pritchard looked at his screen again. “I’m running a pattern scan over the grid of New Orleans as we speak. I know how they work, and I know their hardware. If they haven’t chucked every single piece of their equipment, which I doubt, finding them is now only a matter of when, not if.”

“Good. Keep me posted.”

Pritchard nodded, and Adam left the Tech Lab again. That was good news indeed. He was as eager to get his hands on those bastards as Pritchard was, and he was looking forward to bring justice to their doors. He didn’t quite know what kind of justice that would have to be, but he knew enough about skilled hackers to be aware that getting them into jail might not be a solution. Records could be falsified easily, and with contacts and safeguards in place, prison might not be able to hold them. A more permanent solution would be required, but after having seen the state Pritchard had been in, he had no qualms about that.

Adam didn’t have to wait for long, because it wasn’t even two hours later that Pritchard contacted him again. He had found them, and Adam was on his way to his personal storage closet before he had even ended the call. Equipped with his tactical gear and armed to the teeth to be on the safe side he arrived at the helipad half an hour later, where Malik was already standing ready. To his surprise Pritchard was there as well, and while Malik now vanished into her cockpit, Pritchard waited for Adam, looking tense and nervous.

“Pritchard?”

“Jensen.” Pritchard took a deep breath. “I have a… request.”

“You can’t come along, if that’s what you-”

“Of course not, and I don’t want to. Not… physically, at least. I’d like to access your ROS.”

“My what?” Adam frowned at him.

Pritchard tilted his head. “The Remote Observation Software, of your ocular implants.”

“Remote…? So you can... just use my eyes?” Adam didn’t know what to feel about this.

Pritchard lifted one hand. “I have never used it, Jensen!” But then he narrowed his eyes. “Hang on, you didn’t know this exists, did you?”

“I didn’t,” Adam replied darkly.

Pritchard looked at the ground for a moment. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, and looked up again. “Jensen, I swear I never used it. I hope you know me better than that, and trust me not to violate your privacy like that.”

Adam relaxed again because he did. He nodded. “I do trust you, Pritchard. But why did you bring this up?”

“I want to ask permission to use it today.” His face darkened, and his hands curled into tight fists. “I want to see them die.”

Adam took a deep breath, trying to think of a way he could explain himself without giving Pritchard the feeling he was insulting him. “Pritchard… as much as I can sympathise with with that notion, I don’t think it’s a good idea. And no, I’m not calling you a wuss, or delicate, or anything. But seeing people die a very bloody and violent death isn’t as satisfying as you think it is. Remember how you collapsed after seeing that asshole Jonas die? You’re not someone who can deal well with the sight of violent deaths. I’m never sure I like the fact that I can.”

Pritchard crossed his arms. “You really think I wouldn’t enjoy them begging for mercy and not getting it, after what they did to me? Jensen, I tried begging for mercy when I was in so much pain I couldn't breathe! And none of them gave a fuck!”

“I didn’t say that.” Adam shook his head. “You can stay logged into the infolink if you want. And I’ll help you get into the nearest morgue to look at their bodies if you feel you have to. But don’t watch them die like that. Don’t do this to you.”

“And what about you?” Pritchard snarled.

“I’m used to it,” Adam replied. “And I don’t think that’s a good thing.”

Pritchard gritted his teeth for moment before he exhaled a frustrated huff of breath. “Fine. But make sure they suffer for this.” He jabbed his finger against the cropped hair on the left side of his head.

“I will,” Adam replied without hesitation, because this might be one of the rare occasions he wouldn’t have a hard time taking a life, and maybe even the contrary. “Back when I still thought you were dead I swore I would find whoever did it, and make them pay. I have no intention on going back on that.”

“Uh…” Pritchard stared at him with parted lips. But then he shook his head with a wry, near-mirthless smile. “Well. Don’t let me keep you any longer, Jensen. And… thanks.”

Adam just nodded and boarded the VTOL without saying another word, and watched Pritchard head back into the building before the hatch closed. He heaved a heavy sigh. He really could understand Pritchard’s burning desire for vengeance, but he also believed, no, he knew, that Pritchard wasn’t one who could relish his revenge if it was presented as blood and pain before his very eyes.

And, just as he had told him, that was a good thing.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the current hard lockdown I have now three kids at home in homeschooling. Fuck knows how much writing I'm going to be able to do in the near future, but it's not going to be much. Sorry, I know I spoiled you with that update speed, but I'm not going to be able to keep that up. Take care of yourselves and stay safe!

Frank was more than a little frustrated when he fell into his chair again, but he couldn’t suppress that little, nagging voice at the back of his head telling him that Jensen was probably right. He then forced himself to keep his focus on his mission, and discovered that it didn’t make much of a difference, logistically, that he was working with a modified headset instead of using his infolink module.

But then Frank he had to realise that Jensen had been more than right. The fact that they had not seen it coming filled him with a grim, vicious satisfaction, and while the first few shots that had fallen enhanced that sensation, the next person Jensen encountered was that female doctor who had posed as forensic expert, and who had had a hand in his surgery as well.

At first he enjoyed her begging for mercy, and he enjoyed the sounds of the bullets, but when he heard her wails turn into screams and moans of pain, when those moans turned into whimpers of agony that petered out into a few stertorous gasps until it ended in silence, he realised his hands were shaking. He logged out of the call, feeling nauseous.

“Frank?”

He shook his head. Annie left the office but Frank ignored her, and kept on ignoring her when she came back, until she put a coffee down in front of him. He muttered a weak thanks and grabbed the cup, and Annie just went back to work in silence.

Frank didn’t pay attention to the time, so he was slightly dismayed when Annie told him not to pull an all-nighter, her jacket zipped up and her bag over her shoulder. He told her he couldn’t make any promises but not to worry about him, and she left, very clearly worried anyway.

Frank stayed where he was, staring at his screen, and discovered he was glad he had listened to Jensen and had not logged into his ROS. And since Jensen had seemed determined enough to make them pay, Frank just relied on his sense of justice. From what he had been able to make out, that bitch Joanna had not had an easy death, and Frank doubted the others would get away any better.

He was so far away in thoughts it almost jumped out of his chair when the alarms of his monitoring software went off. Franks’ eyes widened. Both Jensen’s vitals and augmentations were all over the place.

“Jensen?”

No reply.

“Fuck…” Frank opened panels and diagnostic routines. “Fuck fuck fuck…” Irregular heartbeat, several augmentation reporting severe malfunctions. “Jensen!”

His only reply was static noise. There was little that Frank could do remotely, apart from initiating the reboot of the infolink.

After several attempts the infolink finally reported back. “Jensen?”

_“Prit...Pritchard…”_

“Jensen!” Frank’s heart was racing so fast he could hardly breathe. “Do you need an ambulance?!”

A long pause, far longer than was good for Frank’s nerves. And when Jensen spoke again, his voice was low and rough.

_“Pritchard, my augs are...going haywire.”_

“I can see that. I’m doing what I can, remotely, which isn’t much.” Frank could see all the error messages and warnings, but accessing them remotely required software – and time – he didn’t have.

 _“Can’t see,”_ Jensen muttered. _“You can… fix that, right?”_

“The ROS,” Frank said. “I can. Hold on. This won’t take long.”

He activated the ROS sub-routine, and moments later had access to Jensen’s optical implants and initialised the reboot. Being trapped with malfunctioning augs was bad enough, but being blind on top of everything was nothing Frank wanted to imagine. The left unit needed a second reboot until it was running, and then he had to do a simultaneous re-boot of both eyes to have them in sync.

“Jensen?”

 _“It’s working.”_ Jensen’s voice was still laboured. _“...sentinel?”_

“As far as I can see the sentinel isn’t damaged, just malfunctioning. What happened, Jensen? Did you run into a room full of EMP mines?”

 _“I... tried hacking a door. I fucked up.”_ A groan that made Frank’s skin crawl. _“Door was rigged with a massive concussion and EMP charge.”_

“What about them? Did you get them?” Frank logged into the phone grid of New Orleans, ready to call an ambulance and the police if needed. “Or are they after you now?”

 _“Three or four left,”_ Jensen replied, and groaned. _“Behind that… fucking door. Fuck!”_

“Jensen?”

 _“Hurts like a fucking…”_ Another groan. _“Ah… fuck. Finally. My left arm went back online.”_

“On half-power, Jensen. Don’t try anything heroic with it.” Frank swallowed hard. “The right one is initialising reboot as well. I’m sorry, I can’t remote-access the rest of your augmentations.”

 _“Isn’t there a way you could?”_ Jensen coughed.

“Technically,” Frank replied hesitantly. “I could remote access your system, but not just like this. It’s a very… involved and complicated progress that I would have to do in person, on you, physically hooking you up to the hardware here. I’m sorry, I can’t help you any more than this.”

 _“It’s okay…”_ Jensen huffed out a heavy breath. _“I think the Sentinel is working again.”_

Frank checked a few parameters on his screen. “It’s coming back online, but from what I can read is that your first stop after getting out of there should be a LIMB clinic.”

 _“I thought as much.”_ Another groan, this one more laboured than pained. _“Legs are back. Okay, I think I’m almost good to go.”_

“Jensen, most of your vitals are still in the red. And don’t paint yourself a hero, I can see that you are still in a hell of pain.”

 _“I am.”_ Jensen coughed. _“Had worse.”_

“That doesn’t mean you can just ignore this!” Frank dug his fingers into his hair, and almost dislodged the headset.

_“I’m not, trust me.”_

At last some of Jensen’s vitals began stabilising, and his limbs stopped giving him warnings, apart from the left arm. The energy converters jumped from empty to almost full, so Jensen had had some Cyberboost bars at hand.

 _“Pritchard?”_ At least now his voice sounded almost normal again.

“What is it, Jensen?”

_“If you access my eyes, can you help me get through this door?”_

“I…” Frank nervously licked his lips. “I don’t know.”

_“Do it, and have a look at that thing. Maybe you can.”_

“Jensen, are you sure?” Frank opened the window, but his fingers hovered over the keyboard.

 _“Since I can trust you not to play peeping tom next time I’m using the bathroom, Francis, yes, I am sure.”_ That was a chuckle, not a cough, and Frank shook his head with a small eye-roll.

“Initialising.” Frank took a few deep breaths, and the camera feed on his screen went live. “I see a dark corridor, and a reinforced metal door.”

A hand appeared into view. _“See that too?”_

“Your hand, yes. And if you flip me a bird now to check the feed I will log off again, Jensen.”

The hand turned around, palm towards the camera, and waved. _“How’s the quality of the feed?”_

“Fine. Access the lock, and let’s see what we can do.”

Frank had a good long look at the lock, and he felt a deep, hard frustration churning in his guts. With his implants this hacking job would have been so much easier, as he could have wormed himself remotely into that security system without setting off any alarms. As it was he didn’t dare to do that, if messing with the software could trigger EMP blasts strong enough to all but disable someone like Jensen.

“Do you have any virus software, Jensen?”

_“Two nukes, three STOP worms.”_

“We have to make them count.” Frank studied the layout of the nodes for a long moment. He could see what had to be done, and he could also see where Jensen most likely had gone wrong. Just how to solve that problem?

“Jensen,” he said after a moment. “I am going to number the nodes, from point of entry, and you will have to memorise these numbers.”

_“Right.”_

Frank proceeded to number every node in the layout, assisted by a piece of paper in front of him to make sure he himself got it right as well. He noted down the directions of the pathways, double-checked that twice, and then made a plan using another colour, to be on the safe side.

“And now you will activate the nodes in the order I tell you, and ignore everything else that happens on that screen, understood?”

_“Understood.”_

“And you will use the nukes on node number three and seven.”

_“Three and seven.”_

“I keep my eyes on the tracker. You activate the nodes, and use the worms on my mark. Do not let your concentration slip away from the nodes. This has to happen fast.”

_“Got you.”_

“Ready?”

_“Ready.”_

“Then go.” Frank leaned forward, and kept his eyes on the nodes and the tracker that came to live immediately after Jensen had activated the first node.

“Stop worm, now.” Frank narrowed his eyes, but Jensen’s lightning reflexes worked again, and he didn’t lose more than half a second. They were getting there. “Seven. Nine. Bypass eight. Stop worm.”

This was going to be a fucking close shave. But then...

_“Access granted.”_

Frank could have yelled in triumph, he would have, but then he would have yelled into Jensen’s infolink so he just hissed. “Yes!”

 _“That was… something.”_ Jensen chuckled. _“Thanks for the help.”_

“Hurry up, Jensen. They may have a secret exit in there.”

_“I was thinking the same thing.”_

“I’m logging out of the ROS again, Jensen. But I’m not leaving my desk until you give me an all clear.”

_“Copy that. Jensen out.”_

Frank folded his arms onto his desk and dropped his head onto his forearms. He was sweating, his hands were cold and clammy and shaking, and he felt faintly sick. He didn’t want to imagine what might have happened if he had fucked that up, and exposed Jensen to another EMP blast like that.

Some of Jensen’s augmentations – the sentinel, his limbs, his implants – or maybe even none of them might have come out of that without permanent damage, leaving Jensen completely helpless, trapped in a heap of dead metal and malfunctioning circuits. And if violent feedback loops wouldn’t kill him, someone finding him in that state would have been able to finish him off with a pocket knife.

Simply put, Frank had been so close to loosing him it made his stomach turn.

He didn’t want to imagine Jensen gone. He could not imagine Jensen gone because of his own failure, because the sheer thought made him want to crawl out of his own skin and scream. He desperately tried to kill those thoughts. Jensen was okay, he was alive and functioning, but even him being a little worse for wear, those assholes would not be a match for him.

Provided there weren’t any more vicious traps involved.

Frank found himself biting his nails as he stared at the screen, as if he could force the monitoring software to remain dormant by sheer force of will.

Jensen contacted him less than half an hour later to tell him they had all been taken care of. The way he said it made it clear to Frank that none of them had escaped with their lives, but for a moment Frank couldn’t say if he was so relieved because they were dead, or because Jensen had walked out of that place on his own two feet.

Frank did feel a huge load fall of his back thinking of those people dead and gone, and as if something constricting around his chest had finally burst and crumbled. He also felt a slight, annoying frustration that he hadn’t been able to witness their demise, but he knew without doubt that he would have regretted doing so, to judge by his reaction to the sounds alone. He wondered if, at one point, he should thank Jensen for his insistence. Maybe he should.

Jensen returned some three hours later. It was long past midnight, but Frank had refused to go home until he could see Jensen with his own eyes, to make sure he was okay, or as okay as it would get. Something told him that Jensen would not go to a LIMB clinic, so he had readied the tools he had to see if he could fix any damage that might still remain. To make sure he really could get a hold of Jensen he waited in the cafeteria, and immediately headed for the door when the VTOL finally appeared into view.

“Pritchard?” Jensen looked and sounded rather confused. “What the hell are you still doing here at this hour?”

“I knew you wouldn’t go to a LIMB clinic, so I’m making sure you’re not about to turn into a fizzling mess of malfunctions and error messages again.” Frank glared at him. “Come with me.”

He expected resistance, but Jensen only shrugged with a deep and heavy breath and followed him. He obediently sat down on the sofa in the Tech Lab, and as Frank readied his tools he tried to assess the damage. As far as he could say the organic injuries had been taken care of already; the Sentinel readings on his screen were all within normal parameters. Jensen’s left arm was still giving him system warnings however, and Frank scanned it thoroughly to see if it was a hardware or a software problem. The latter he might be able to fix, the former had to be taken care of by LIMB.

“I’m going to initialise a hard reboot of your left arm, Jensen. This might…” He swallowed. “This will be rather unpleasant.”

“Do what you have to,” Jensen muttered. “It’s okay.”

Frank could see Jensen wince as he initiated the process and the arm fell limp and dead down his side, and he dropped his tool to check the monitoring software again. At least this time when the arm was up and running again the error messages were gone.

“Right.” He looked up from his screen and at Jensen who was sitting slightly slumped over on the sofa. “My readings are all within acceptable parameters now, but you really need to get checked over at LIMB.”

“I will.” Jensen arched his back. “I just want to sleep for a few hours.”

Frank closed down the diagnostic software and opened the drawer where he had always kept his Cyberboost bars. He hadn’t stocked up yet because he didn’t need them right now, but there were two, and he grabbed them both.

“Here.” He sat down next to Jensen on the sofa and held out the bars to him. “Your energy converters are empty.”

“Thank you,” Jensen muttered and made short work of both of the bars. Then he scratched his temple. “I think the sheath broke.”

“What? Let me see.”

Jensen now looked at Frank, and Frank tried to ignore how close they were as he inspected the sheath curving around Jensen’s left eye. It was cracked right through the middle, and it had to pinch the skin underneath.

“What the hell happened?”

“Ricochet.” Jensen shrugged.

“A bullet shouldn’t be able to crack this.” Frank narrowed his eyes. “That was one hell of a lucky strike.”

“Considering it would have busted my eye if it hadn’t cracked the sheath, lucky is the right word.”

Frank wet his lips with his tongue. “Does it hurt?”

“A bit.” Jensen scratched the skin next to the sheath. “Mostly it’s annoying as hell though.”

“Then why don’t you take it off?”

“Take it off?”

The two of them stared at each other for a moment.

“Jensen…” Frank felt a surge of anger inside him. “Did no one tell you that these can come off, for maintenance?”

Jensen shook his head, eyes narrow and jaws set tight. “I don’t even know how that would work.”

“I…” Frank swallowed. He had enough of invading Jensen’s privacy for one day, and he was really annoyed that there were so many small details about Jensen’s augmentations that no one had told him about. “I can. If you allow me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Jensen asked with a crooked smile. “I’ve had you in my head. Will this hurt?”

“It shouldn’t, though truth to be told, I don’t know,” Frank replied. He scanned the sheath with his eyes and found the pressure points that would release the skin bolts. “I only know how this works from the blueprints. It might be unpleasant since it will disconnect the device from your nervous system.”

“Guess it will.” Jensen closed his eyes. “Just get it over with.”

Frank nodded, and reached out. He realised at that moment that apart from Jensen saving him from Jonas, he had never touched him. And now this, this strange and uncomfortably intimate moment, where Frank had to touch the delicate skin around Jensen’s eyes. He put his thumb and index finger onto the pressure points of the tips above and below the eye socket, and the index finger of his other hand onto the one at the single tip pointing towards Jensen’s temple. He was so close he could feel Jensen’s breath on his hand, and his fingers were trembling and his heart was racing too fast for him to play it cool.

He took a deep breath and pressed down with his fingers, and while Jensen winced again, the eye sheath came off with a soft, almost inaudible click. The mark where the crack had pinched the skin was red and slightly swollen, but thanks to the Sentinel, Frank could see it pale and vanish.

“Can you…” Jensen’s voice was low, and hesitant. “Can you take the other off as well? Feels weird only having one.”

Frank nodded and dropped the broken sheath onto the sofa next to him. Jensen turned his head, and Frank had to lean even closer to remove the sheath from Jensen’s right eye, since was sitting to his left. The second sheath came away with a soft click too.

Frank lowered his hand and accidentally brushed his fingers across Jensen’s cheekbone. The touch made his skin tingle, and Jensen was looking at him now, a strange, intense look in his eyes, one that Frank found impossible to bear. He hastily leaned back and got up.

“Go home and sleep Jensen, but please go to LIMB tomorrow.”

“I will, and also the labs since I need replacements for those,” Jensen replied, his voice strangely husky, and picked up both of the sheaths before getting up.

His face looked strange without them, only three tiny, silver skin bolts around his eyes where the black polymer used to be. For a moment the proportions of his face seemed off, and Jensen without his shades looked oddly vulnerable, unable to hide his synthetic eyes. But then Frank remembered that he hadn’t hidden them from Frank when he had been visiting Denton in his apartment.

“Well.” Jensen looked around, and back at Frank. “Seeing as you don’t need a bodyguard any more, is it okay if I have Malik drop me off at my apartment? I wanted to go home from here after dropping my gear, but now that I’ve sat down for a moment I can’t ignore any more how beat I am.”

“Go home, Jensen, I’ll be fine.” Frank’s voice was a lot gentler than he had planned, and he didn’t know why it had happened. Maybe the shock of listening to Jensen almost dying was still in his bones.

And now he had been in the situation of having thought about asking Jensen out, of hitting on him, again, and twice now he had found himself thinking he might never get that chance again.

Maybe it was time to throw caution to the wind. He doubted that after this, things would be awkward for long. And maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t turn out so bad. He wouldn’t have to hit on him with a sledgehammer, after all. He could start small, and see where it would take him.

“Jensen?”

Jensen stopped again as he had reached the door. He turned around with a questioning look. “Pritchard?”

Frank’s heart started to bead unnaturally fast again, but he took a deep breath. “I thought that, after today… we could go out for a drink? Some day?”

Jensen licked his lips, and hesitated for a moment, but then a small, almost shy smile appeared on his face. “Sure. How about Friday? I could… pick you up at your place? At seven?”

“Sounds good, Jensen.”

“Great.” The smile on Jensen’s face grew, and was a lot warmer, and something strange happened in Frank’s chest seeing that. “Good night, Francis.”

“Good night.”

Frank watched Jensen leave, and wondered if he should have said ‘good night, Adam’ instead. But Jensen was gone, and Frank tried not to think about how the thought of going out for a drink made Frank so anxious. Or maybe not anxious. He wasn’t afraid. Just… strangely nervous.

The memory of Jensen’s skin under his fingers didn’t leave him, not while he packed, not on his way home. He managed to think of something else while he was underway, namely on the fact that he didn’t need a bodyguard any more. But once he was home, and had crawled into bed, he couldn’t get the feeling of the soft skin of Jensen’s face under his fingertips out of his head again.


	20. Chapter 20

When Frank checked on Jensen the next day, shortly after nine o’clock, his readings showed that Jensen was still in the Chiron Building. Well, at least he wasn’t running through some shady quarters of Detroit hunting gangsters, or whatever else he felt he had to be doing. 

At ten Frank checked again, and still, same location. Jensen obviously needed some sleep, so Frank focused back on his work, and the paperwork he needed for his augmentations. Last night had him shown in a very visceral way what those implants were good for, and why he wanted them back. He opened his calendar app to check a possible timeline for his treatment.

Two days until Friday, until he would be having that drink with Jensen, and heaven knew how that would end. Frank ignored the fluttering in his stomach and focused on the calendar again. No matter what would happen on Friday, Sunday was the Christmas staff party of Sarif Industries. Frank looked forward to that as much as he would look forward to the extraction of a wisdom tooth, but after the shitstorm of the last months maybe it wouldn’t be quite so bad, because it felt too good to be back. 

Then Christmas and New Year, when no surgeries were scheduled that weren’t vital, but after that, he would take the earliest appointment he could get. Frank couldn’t deny that vanity played a role as well; the longer his hair would grow out around that scar the more it would hurt having to shave it off again. Either way, he would get the surgery in January, hopefully, and would then, more or less a year after his kidnapping, be back at work as his old self. 

And as little as Frank was looking forward to another brain surgery, this would – or so he sincerely hoped – be his last. 

Frank checked on Jensen again after his next coffee, fully aware he was acting like a mother hen but unwilling to let that stop him. By now Jensen wasn’t home any more, and Frank followed his path with narrowed eyes. But yes, he did indeed see himself to the LIMB clinic, and Frank logged out of his surveillance software with a satisfied nod. 

He went back to the report he was working on, together with Buckner and Hellman, head of IT of Milwaukee Junction. The whole new system was still experimental in some areas, and they were still tweaking it, but it surprised Frank how little this work was bothering him. Initially he had feared the new workloads and delegated duties would cause more trouble than they were worth, but the contrary proved to be the case.

They were just discussing – only half jokingly – the possibilities of promising a staff reward for those who had gone without incident reports for a certain amount of time when the door to the Tech Lab opened, followed by a knock against the frame. 

“Pritchard?”

“Jensen?” Frank looked up. “How are your augs doing?”

“Fine. I got a full deep-scan, there were no malfunctions. I also got a new pair of these in the labs.” He pointed at his new sheaths. They seemed to be a newer model, as they were sleeker and thinner as the old ones. “Hurt like a motherfucker to have them fitted, though. Three times as much as when you took them off last night. Guess they report differently to my nervous system.”

“Or,” Annie said pointedly around her chewing gum, “maybe Frank has a gentle touch.”

“Annie, if you were still an intern I’d have you scrubbing keyboards with a toothbrush for the rest of the week,” Frank snarled at her, ignoring how his heart did a very unpleasant and complicated somersault in his chest. 

Jensen just snorted under his breath and shook his head. Then he looked at Frank again. “I need a one-on-one with you.”

Frank tilted his head. “Now?”

“Whenever you have the time.” Jensen headed for the door. “Ive reserved one of the meeting rooms on the sixth floor for the rest of the day, and tomorrow.”

“What the hell?” Frank tilted his head. “Jensen, the meeting rooms up there are for confidential and sensitive issues.”

“Exactly.” Jensen’s shades snapped into place and he nodded. “There’s a reason I said one-on-one.”

“I…” Frank looked at his screen. “I’m in a group chat with the other two heads of IT. I’ll get back to you as soon as we're done.”

“Good.” 

Jensen was out of the door again with a dramatic swish of his coat, and Frank combed his fingers through his hair. 

Annie slid out of her chair and got up. “And what was that about?” she asked, but more to the empty room in general. 

“I know as much as you do,” Frank replied and looked back at his screen. “Are you going for a coffee run? I could really use one.”

“I was, in fact, on my way,” Annie replied with a wink and left. 

Frank managed to focus on his group chat again, but he kept steering their usual banter back to the topic because he wanted this to be over. He had no idea what Jensen would have to talk about, and in so much privacy. 

He was just wrapping things up when Annie came back with their coffees, and he took his cup with a grateful nod. 

“So,” Annie said as she folded her legs under her to sit cross-legged in her chair. “I heard the Crystal Cave has a new bartender, and according to my sources, he is hot.” 

Frank rolled his eyes and pried the lid of the cup. 

“I mean he’s obviously not as hot as other guys I could but won’t mention.” She lifted her eyebrows and shot Frank a pointed look over the rim of her cup. “But we could check him out this Friday.”

Frank opened his mouth to reply and found himself unexpectedly flustered. 

“Frank?” Annie tilted her head and swivelled her chair around to look at him. 

“I...uh.” Frank cleared his throat. “I have… plans. On Friday.”

“Oh?” Annie’s eyes widened, and a huge grin appeared on her face. “Oh! Do these plans involve a certain someone?”

“I asked him out for a drink.” Frank realised that talking about it with Annie caused a strange, fluttering sensation in his stomach. He hated it, he wasn’t a teenager any more, for fuck’s sake.

“Well, that was about time,” Annie replied, but then she tapped her finger against her chin. “I wonder if this… one-on-one… in a soundproof meeting room without surveillance cameras has anything to do with that?”

Frank almost did a spit take and glowered at her, but before he could think of a reply Annie just turned her chair around again with a sound that was half-way between a snort and a giggle.

As soon as Frank had logged the chat and shut the software down he put on the headset and told Jensen that he was ready. Not two minutes later Jensen appeared in the Tech Lab, and Frank followed him to the elevators in silence. The ride up was a little tense, because Annie’s teasing words were still tumbling around in his mind, and although he knew this wasn’t about Jensen having him up against a wall he could not get the image out of his head. 

Jensen remained silent as well, and he unlocked the room with a swipe of his card. Frank entered the room and crossed his arms and tried not to think of an interrogation chamber. 

“I don’t know if you have any idea what this is about,” Jensen said as he turned around. 

_According to Annie you want to have your way with me on the table_ , Frank thought, but tried to keep his mind focused on what was actually happening, which was Jensen looking at him with a frown. “No, I don’t.”

“It’s what we talked about yesterday,” Jensen said then. “When my augs were going haywire. You said there was something you could do, so you can remote-access my system.”

Frank’s brain needed a reboot after he had processed what Jensen had just said. He took a few deep breaths. 

“Jensen,” he said then, slowly and hesitantly. “I know I said it’s possible, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a good idea.”

“It felt like a really great idea last night when I was trapped in malfunctioning augmentations that I couldn’t access for a restart. A few minutes are really a long time when you have to wait for your limbs and your eyes to come back to life.”

“I get it, Jensen.” Frank rubbed a hand across his forehead. “It’s just…”

Now Jensen crossed his arms. 

Frank huffed out a heavy breath and looked at him again. “Look, yes, it’s possible, and yes, I theoretically know how to do it. But you… you have to be really, really sure about this, because…”

“Because that puts me at the mercy of whoever has access to that software.”

“Yes.” Frank shook his head. “This literally turns you into a puppet on a string, Jensen. I mean, after last night I understand why it feels like a good idea, but…” He rubbed his hands down his face.

“But?” Jensen's voice was flat, and low.

“Jensen, it would mean you give me access to your limbs, your vital organs, some military grade augmentations, and your cranial implants!” Frank spread his hands and shook his head. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“The whole point of this discussion _is_ to give you access to all of that.” Jensen dropped his arms again, and curled and uncurled his hands a few times. “And I know this requires consent from both sides, so if you don’t want this just say so, and we can both be on our way.”

“I didn’t say that,” Frank replied, and took a deep breath. “After last night I am especially aware of how useful this would be. But… Jensen…” He could only shake his head again. “And I’m not saying I don’t want it, I just… I don’t understand how…”

“Pritchard,” Jensen said, his voice still low. “There’s no one I would trust this with, other than you. And after last night it would make me feel better, knowing you have my back no matter what.”

Frank could only stare at Jensen, totally dumbfounded. The depth of Jensen’s trust in him was overwhelming, and for a few long moments he had no idea what to say. 

“Jensen,” he eventually managed to say. “I’m… uh… flattered is not the right word, but…” He shook his head. “It does open a dangerous back door into your system.”

Now a lopsided, wry little grin appeared on Jensen’s face. “And who else but the mighty Pritchard would be able to guard that back door against attacks and enemies from the darkness?”

“You…” Frank cleared his throat. “You seem to think very highly of me and my skills, Jensen.”

“With reason,” Jensen said simply. “I know we started out hating each other, but you are the only person I could always trust.”

Swallowing drily Frank pressed his lips together. “I’m… I’m really…” He ran a hand over his head. “Okay. I’ll have a look at the software and the subroutines. But if there are security concerns, if I find reason to suspect it’s not entirely safe, then this will not happen.”

“Agreed.” Jensen nodded. “I also trust your judgement in that. But I really want this. Last night…” He sighed. “I haven’t been so afraid in a very long time.”

“I… I understand,” Frank replied. The thought of someone like Jensen being afraid wasn’t one he could stomach. “I will investigate that software in depth, so this is going to take a while. But Jensen…” He met his eyes. “I will not do anything else before I get my implants. We both know I’m usually confident regarding my abilities, but this isn’t something I will leave to chance. If I’m not at my absolute best, and reliably able to protect that software no matter what happens to you, I will not go through with this.”

“Fair enough.” Jensen nodded. “How soon is that going to happen?”

“As soon as possible, though not before January. I already filed everything with Sarif and the clinic. I hope I will hear back from them before Christmas but that’s doubtful. But believe me, I want those implants back. And once I have them…” Frank huffed out an angry sigh. “I’m going to be out of commission for at least two months, though my brain has adjusted to them once before, so it might not take this long. But we need to play this safe.”

“And hope something like New Orleans doesn’t happen again,” Jensen said darkly and gritted his teeth. 

“Look, we're not entirely separated.” Frank shrugged. “If you encounter a hacking job you feel might be out of your reach, contact me and we can do what we did last night.”

“That’s right,” Jensen replied and relaxed a little. “That worked really well.” And with a smile, he added, “We’re just a good team.”

“Which is surprising, given how we started out,” Frank gave back with a wry smile.

Jensen returned that smile and huffed out a chuckle. “So, you have a look at that software, and if you deem it safe we install it once you have your implants up and running again.”

“That is the plan for now,” Frank replied. 

“Good.”

Jensen unlocked the door again, and while the silence in the elevator back down was heavy, it was a lot less tense. They gave each other a nod before they parted, and Frank headed back to the Tech Lab and his desk with a strange feeling of unease he couldn’t explain, or process. 

“So…” Annie looked up at him. “Confidential?”

“Very much so,” Frank replied, “and no, it did not involve the removal of any items of wardrobe.”

“Booooring,” Annie replied and looked back at her screen. “But if your date Friday night doesn’t end with dicks out I will resign.”

“Annie!” Frank hissed, completely scandalised and utterly mortified. “It’s not a date, it’s just… going out for casual drinks with a co-worker.”

“A co-worker who you’ve had the hots for since, like, forever.” Annie kept looking at her screen and started typing. “And a co-worker who has the hots for you. I tell you, every time you two are in the same room my gaydar is blaring.”

Frank propped his elbows onto his desk and buried his face into his hands. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Annie replied cheerfully and popped a gum bubble. 

Frank breathed a soft groan into his palms and dropped his hands again. Focussing back on his work proved to be a challenge for the rest of the day.

* * *

The issue of the depth of Jensen’s trust in Frank followed him home, and after making himself a coffee in relaxed companionship with Denton as a comforting scarf, he sat down onto his sofa with a sigh. 

“Is this normal co-worker behaviour, putting your whole existence into someone else’s hands?”

Denton had no other reply than a flick of his tongue. 

“Sometimes I really wish you could talk, you know.” Frank took a sip of coffee. “It’s kind of… I don’t even know how to describe that! That he trusts me so much, I mean.”

The look that Denton was giving him now felt judgemental. 

“I know. I know!” Frank took another sip of his coffee. “Trust is a two-way road, isn’t it? And I mean… I do trust him. I just didn’t want to ask because… because it’s not work. It’s personal. But maybe… maybe he would help me out.”

Curling tighter around his shoulders Denton brushed Frank’s neck with his nose before settling down again. 

“I told you about Carl, and Roger, and that third asshole whose name I keep forgetting. Mike, or Mark, or whatever.” Frank closed his eyes. “If anyone could help me get back at them, it’s Jensen. Right?” 

After another long moment of silence Frank got up, and headed for his personal PC. The truth was, he had been thinking of his torturers every now and then during the last years, and not willingly. Not often, most of the time he was fine, but he had never been able to get rid of them. And while his time in prison and what he had been through had been one of the issues they had worked on in France, it would never be gone completely. 

Frank had promised himself he would get back at those assholes one day, but even after so long a time, he had not dared to engage them, even virtually. Frank had no idea why, because they could not possibly hurt him. But the horror they had put him through had buried itself deeply into his soul, and would likely never leave. 

Over the years he had kept on telling himself he couldn’t be bothered, that he was far away enough, and that they weren’t a danger to him because they probably couldn’t even remember his name, let along his face. 

And while that was technically true, what Frank had been forced to accept in France was that it was only half of it. That a part of his mammal brain did not know about the internet and cyberspace, and for that little part of his brain engaging them meant putting himself into danger again. 

But maybe some of that internal anguish could be put to rest if they were dealt with, just as Jonas’ gang had been dealt with. And knowing that Jensen might help him, that there was a really good chance that Jensen would help him, Frank sat down, adjusted Denton, and switched on the PC. He would not let the part of his brain that still thought he was a monkey dictate his life.

He was almost angry with himself about how much his hands were shaking. Just thinking about those assholes made him feel a trace of the pain and helplessness from back then, even after all these years. It was high time to get rid of them. He had an ally now, after all. He told the monkey brain to grow the fuck up and forced his mind back on track.

Once Frank was in the prison registry he went back to the time of his own imprisonment and looked up his own name, just to face the fact he had been there, and relish the fact that he had gotten out, was still here, and had a better life now than he would ever have dared to dream of. 

After some digging around he found their names, because forgetting what the guards had called them had been impossible too during the last eight years. Going through the files Frank found out that both Roger and Carl had gotten fifteen years, and should have been released two years ago. Marc had gotten life, so he should still be rotting behind those razor-wire topped walls. That meant that Jensen would probably not be able to get his hands on him, but Jensen was not someone to underestimate.

But what Frank discovered next felt as if someone had hit him with a sack full of hammers. 

Sarif had gotten Frank out of prison in October 2020. Not three weeks later the first cases of COVID-19 had appeared, and within the next few weeks the whole prison had an infection rate of 92%. Abysmal to mostly non-existent medical care had led to a much higher death rate in prisons in general back then, and more than fifty inmates in Cook County Corrections had died from the disease. Frank’s hands were shaking so hard he almost couldn’t type any more, and they were still shaking as he went through the list of fatalities. 

Among them, three names that had haunted him in his nightmares, and occasionally even awake, for the last eight years of his life. 

Bowman, Marcus 01/12/2021  
Briggs, Roger 01/03/2021  
Edwards, Carl 01/05/2021

“Fuck,” Frank whispered, his voice breaking. “Fuck…”

All three of them among the death toll… what were the chances? But here it was, black on white: none of them had ever made it out of prison alive. They all had died in that place, and from what Frank knew about the disease, they hadn’t died an easy death. 

“Fuck!” Frank got up so hastily he toppled over his chair, and he stumbled away from his desk. He barely managed to remove Denton from his shoulders before he had to make a dash for the bathroom. 

After Frank was done puking his guts out he leaned against the bathroom wall, and had no explanation why he felt that way. He had no idea why discovering their deaths had been such a shock. 

Eventually Frank managed to get back onto his feet, and after flushing the toilet and rinsing his mouth he dragged himself back into the living room. Denton had curled up in front of the radiator but had no objections to being picked up, but Frank only put him back into the terrarium. He fell down onto his sofa and stared straight ahead.

So many years with that deep-sitting fear, that completely unreasonable, illogical, monkey brain fear, and they had been dead all that time. 

Frank slung his arms around himself and shook his head. He thought of freezing and being hungry, and of being flung against a cold, tiled wall. Then he thought about what he knew of that disease, which wasn’t much, but he knew enough that it would not have been a nice death. And then he imagined Carl drowning in his own fluids, a suffering, drawn out death without proper medical care, maybe a little oxygen, maybe a few painkillers. The only thing that would have done was prolong the inevitable. 

Maybe there was something like karmic justice after all. 

The memories would never leave him. And Frank wasn’t naive enough to think that after this, the nightmares would not come back. But something deep inside him unravelled, something cold and heavy began to dissipate, something he hadn’t even been consciously aware of. Or maybe, he had gotten too used to it over the years. None of the shit he had learned in France however helped him deal with this uproar, at least not right now. He would just have to let it happen and see how he would eventually emerge on the other side.

Frank managed to get onto his feet, and he headed for the bathroom on slightly shaky legs. Then he took a long, hot shower, and after that he crawled into bed. And as he lay there, in this comfortable bed, under his warm comforter, it hit him all over again. 

He couldn’t stop crying for what felt like hours, and he still had no idea why. But eventually he could breathe again, and by that time he was wrung out and knackered enough to sleep. 

Feeling strangely fragile the next morning, Frank looked at his mirror image as he shaved, and at one point discovered a smile on his lips. It wasn’t a nice smile, or a happy one. 

“I’m still here,” he said, but not to himself. “You wanted to break me, to destroy me. But you’re dead, and I’m still here.”

It made him feel better somehow, saying this out loud. He bent over the sink to rinse the last of the shaving cream off, and when he straightened up and looked at himself again, with water dripping down his face, he could see it in his eyes. He could feel it in his bones, that some of his strength had returned to him. And that the frightened little monkey brain might finally leave him alone.

“I didn’t die in that fucking place,” he said, and watched the satisfied smirk grow on his face. “But you did. You never got out of those fucking walls, you assholes.”

By the time Frank had downed his first morning coffee he felt almost his own self again, and he left the house with a constantly lightening mood that not even the cold drizzle of Detroit in late December could dampen.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words are happening slower and slower these days. When I enrolled in school I did not plan for my kids being homeschooled when I start. So not only the kids but I too are trying to do school from home and frankly, it's a nightmare. The hard lockdown has been extendet to at least the 7th of February and I have no idea where to take the energy from to survive that long. I want to write to relax my brain, I often did before when I worked, but I'm just too tired. Maybe once I'm used to using my brain again after ten years at home being mentally ill it'll get better. Until then, you have to wait for your chapters for fuck knows how long.

Adam looked into the mirror for the tenth time that evening, and asked himself if he was reading to much into that invitation. Also for the tenth time. Or more likely for the twentieth time. He gave himself one last critical once-over, but he was perfectly groomed, no hair of his beard out of place, and his hair was perfectly styled.

“Christ, you’re going for a drink with a colleague, not to Prom.” Adam tugged at the front of his shirt. Just a simple dress shirt, just black, as usual, but he asked himself if he was overdressed like this, as Pritchard had spoken about a casual drink.

“I’m making far too much fuss about this, aren’t I?” he asked as he left his bedroom, only to remember that Denton had moved out and he was alone again. “Right.”

He was on his way to the door when he changed his mind again, and headed back towards his bedroom to get rid of the shirt. He exchanged it for a simple, slim-fitting turtle-neck sweater, this one dark grey, and immediately felt a little better about himself. Adam was fully aware that he was acting like a teenager before his first date, but help it, he couldn’t.

He pressed the button for Pritchard’s doorbell at two minutes past seven, but nothing happened. A minute later his phone buzzed, and he unlocked it to find a text from Pritchard.

> _sorry had a wardrobe malfunction be with you in a minute_

Adam took a step back from the door, and true to his word, Pritchard appeared not long after, tugging his leather jacket into place.

“Wardrobe malfunction?”

Pritchard rolled his eyes. “I was just putting on my shoes when the zipper of my jeans decided to pop, and I didn’t fancy going out with my fly gaping open.”

“Right. Just be glad it happened at home and not later.”

“I am, believe me,” Pritchard replied with a lopsided grin. “Do you have a location in mind? The bars I usually frequent are… tend to be a little louder and more crowded on Fridays than what I am in the mood for tonight.”

“I know a place,” Adam replied with a smile. “Though we have to take the subway because it’s quite the walk otherwise.”

“Then let’s go.”

They headed for the nearest subway station in silence, a decidedly less uncomfortable silence than the one during the times Adam had been Pritchard's bodyguard. Ten minutes on the subway and a short walk later they arrived at The Parlour, and while Adam found them a nice booth, Pritchard headed for the bar. He came back five minutes later with two beers and put them down on the table before sitting down.

The proceeded to sip their beer in silence, but Adam did remember the silence in the Vertigo back then, and this felt different. More relaxed, somehow. After everything that happened during the last year there was so much less friction between them that they were able to enjoy each other’s company, it seemed.

After the second beer however Adam decided to satisfy his curiosity. “Pritchard?”

Pritchard looked up from his bottle and stopped picking the label off.

“I’m curious. Can I ask you something?”

“Ask away,” Pritchard replied with a cocky little grin. “I may decide not to grace you with a reply, though.”

“Fair enough.” Adam leaned back. “We both know I’ve been through your things, no use in either of us pretending that I didn’t. So I’ve seen those pictures and I…” He shook his head. “Green? What the hell were you thinking?”

Pritchard’s eyes widened, and then he dropped his head back with a groan. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before he looked back at Adam, a suffering, slightly tortured smile on his face. “Caught me at my worst, Jensen.” He took a sip of his beer. “I was in the phase of doing anything that would piss off my parents, and bleaching and dyeing my hair any shade of horrible was one of my favourite things.”

“Any shade of…”

“It started with red. And I’m not talking ginger, Jensen. I’m talking about bright, glaring, artificial, traffic-sign red. Then I tried purple but that looked too My Little Pony for me, so I changed that to platinum. And that was followed by venom green.”

His eyes unfocussed, and Adam could clearly see that Pritchard had ended up in a very unpleasant train of thought. “Pritchard?”

Pritchard shook his head and looked up again. “Bad memories. I made venom green my trademark and obviously it was against… regulations.”

“Regulations?”

“In prison,” Pritchard replied with a sharp edge to his voice. “It was green, and it was long, so naturally the first thing they did after giving me that lumpy jumpsuit was to shave it all off.”

Adam swallowed drily and looked at the table. “I’m sorry… I didn't know I’d open an old wound with that.”

Pritchard sighed. “Don’t worry about that too much. Sooner or later any conversation about my pre-Sarif Industries past will touch the topic of my time in prison. So, to get back to your question, I had a very long and very intense rebellious phase as a teenager, and that extended into my twenties. It is not one of my proudest moments, it made my parents’ silver wedding a little awkward because there were a lot of elderly relatives with even less tolerance than my parents.” He took another sip of beer. “But the fact I was still living in my parents’ basement without education or a job at that time didn’t make things any easier.”

“I can imagine,” Adam said, and reached for his coat. He found his smokes, and offered the packet to Pritchard who shook his head.

“Used the time in France to quit,” he said.

Adam nodded, and after a moment’s hesitation put the smokes away again. “Guess you didn’t have much contact after moving out.”

“None,” Pritchard replied and took a sip of his drink. “You don’t have to,” he said then and gestured at the coat with the bottom of his bottle. “Have a smoke if you want one.”

“It’s not that urgent,” Adam replied. And with a small grin he added, “Maybe I should take you as a good example and use this as a motivation to try and quit, too.”

Pritchard barked out a short laugh. “Me? A good example?” He snorted. “Jensen, you’re precious.”

Adam just grinned and gestured at Pritchard’s empty beer. “Another?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Pritchard replied, and Adam headed towards the bar.

It was getting late and there were a lot of people at the bar, so Adam joined the queue and crossed his arms. The place slowly got crowded, and just as he wondered if he should give up and suggest to Pritchard they change locations, a young woman bumped into him and almost spilled her drink on his shirt.

“Shit!” She looked up, and her dismayed expression turned into a wide smile. “I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

“No worries, nothing broken.”

She giggled, and was now joined by another girl her age. They both looked like they were just about of legal drinking age.

“Hey,” girl number two said, in what she probably thought was an enticing manner. “Do you have a friend who’s as handsome as you? We could share a table.”

Adam looked around, and found the booth empty. Before he could say anything however someone patted his arm and he turned around to find Pritchard behind him, wearing his jacket and holding out Adam’s coat.

“Hey babe,” Pritchard said without batting an eyelash. “It’s getting cramped, wanna head home?”

Grabbing his coat on autopilot, Adam turned away from the girls, and let Pritchard take his hand as they left. He could hear the girls mutter their disappointment and frustration to each other until the door fell shut behind them.

Pritchard immediately let go of his hand, and Adam felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment.

He looked at Pritchard, tilting his head. “Babe?”

Pritchard shrugged. “I figured that was the fastest and safest way to get them out of our hair. Feel free though to go back and play cradle snatcher if you’re so inclined.”

“No, thank you.” Adam huffed, and watched his breath dissipate in a white cloud. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“You’re welcome.” Pritchard shoved his hands into his pocket. “Is there another location you can think about that’s not a bar with screaming loud music and overpriced drinks?”

“No,” Adam replied and looked around. “To be perfectly honest, a coffee and maybe a whiskey somewhere in peace and quiet would be right up my street right now.”

“I don’t have whiskey, but I can offer coffee,” Pritchard said, a little hesitantly, but then he smiled. “And my room mate is a quiet guy who won’t bother us.”

“Room… oh.” Adam grinned. “Denton.”

“So?”

“Sure, why not,” Adam said, and tried to ignore the way his heart was racing right now. He was sorely tempted to activate CASIE to check for Pritchard’s emotional state, but the thought of invading his privacy like that was not one Adam was able to entertain. So they headed back for the subway station, and Adam tried not to think too far ahead.

* * *

Frank stared out of the window into the absolute darkness of the subway tunnel and kept asking himself if he had overstepped, having taken Jensen’s hand like that. But he had recognised that look on those two girls’ faces, and he knew from experience how hard it could be to get rid of people like that.

But the question took up more and more space in his mind, so he decided to get it over with. “Jensen?”

“Hm?”

“I didn’t… overstep a line, when I called you ‘babe’ and took your hand, did I?”

Jensen looked up at him with a smile. “Nah. Don’t worry. It was effective, it wasn’t rude, and I don’t have any fragile heterosexuality to protect.”

That wasn’t good for Frank’s calm at all. It was now very suddenly very clear that Jensen was indeed not straight, just like Annie had said, and that increased the likelihood of Annie being right regarding the ‘thing’ Jensen might have for him by factor ten. And now he was taking Jensen home. For a coffee.

And the sudden realisation that it might not end with just a coffee made Frank’s throat go dry, and a strange, uncomfortable heat spread in his abdomen. Frank had never felt like this when taking someone home after a night out. Usually all he felt was horny, because he took guys home for a night of fun, nothing else. What this was, Frank had no idea. But at one point after New Orleans Frank had had to admit to himself that he wanted Jensen in a very undeniable and physical way, and while he wasn’t ready to admit there were feelings involved, he couldn’t ignore them either.

Frank could only hope Jensen didn’t notice how much his fingers were trembling as he unlocked his door. He couldn’t even look at Jensen as he got rid of his shoes and jacket, and he immediately entered the kitchen.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, and busied himself with cups and the coffee maker.

Frank could hear Jensen get rid of his coat and boots as he stared at the coffee dribbling into the first cup, and wondered what had happened to him. He felt as if he had completely forgotten how to hit on someone, and couldn’t suppress the thought that Annie would find this absolutely hilarious. Frank took the cup out and put the next one in.

A low mutter made him look up, and he watched Jensen through the pass-through as he approached the snake tank. Frank couldn’t hear what he was saying to Denton, but he could see Jensen’s face in profile, and the smile he had for the snake.

During the last years, very few guys had reacted positively to Denton. Some were ‘meh, whatever’, others ‘wow cool’ only to lose interest when discovering it wasn’t an exciting killer snake with enough venom to depopulate a small village. One had outright refused to enter the place upon spotting the terrarium, and a few others had found it simply gross.

Now Jensen stood there, and was talking to Denton in a low voice, an affectionate, gentle smile on his face. He had been disappointed that Denton didn’t want to be touched by him. Jensen cared about the snake in a way that Frank would never have been able to imagine. Jensen _liked_ that snake.

Something settled in his chest with that realisation, and he took the cups with a smile. He walked towards the sofa and put the cups down onto the coffee table, but instead of saying something about the coffee he just walked across the room, to Jensen’s side.

“Think he’s happy to see me?” Jensen muttered with a lopsided little smile.

Frank took a deep breath, and his mind was made up. “I don’t know, but I am happy you’re here,” he said in a low voice, then took a step closer and rested his left hand on the small of Jensen’s back. Standing next to him he could see that Jensen tensed, but his eyes fluttered shut as Frank slowly moved his hand up until it rested between Jensen’s shoulders.

They remained like this for a moment, almost as if suspended in time, and then Jensen slowly turned around. Frank swallowed, his throat dry, and a part of him waited for the ‘I’m sorry but’, or ‘I don’t feel that way’, but Jensen took a step closer and slowly settled his hands on Frank’s shoulders. Frank took a shaky breath and rested his right hand on Jensen’s chest, over his heart. It was beating rapidly fast, just like Frank’s own.

After one final moment of hesitation Frank looked up, and moved his hand over Jensen’s shoulder, up his neck, and rested it on Jensen’s cheek. Jensen closed his eyes and leaned his face into the touch, and Frank slowly ran the tips of his fingers over Jensen’s cheekbone, carding them through his beard, and slowly traced his jaw line. He let his index finger graze the corner of Jensen’s mouth, and his heart skipped a beat when Jensen’s lips brushed against that finger, the ghost of a kiss.

For a moment neither of them moved. And then Jensen opened his eyes and moved his hands from Frank’s shoulders up to cup his cheeks. He leaned forward and Frank’s eyes fluttered shut of their own accord, and then there was the soft caress of warm breath on his lips. He managed just one other breath before he felt lips on his own, gentle, warm, and surrounded by the soft scratch of beard.

The kiss was soft, and tender, and it was divine. Frank had never been kissed like this. And while the feeling of cool, synthetic fingers on his face was unfamiliar and a little strange, it also felt good, in a way that was very confusing until Frank realised that only Jensen had fingers like this. This was something unique, the sensation that only one man could give him.

Frank had, quite literally, never been touched like this before. And wondering if everything else with this man would feel first-time new as well made a shiver run down his spine. He had to break the kiss for air, bit it did not slow his breathing or his heartbeat.

Jensen did let go of his face, but he slung his arms around Frank’s shoulders to pull him close, and Frank let himself sink into that embrace, closing his arms around Jensen in turn. Their hands were roaming each other’s back in soft, gentle touches, their faces against each other’s neck and shoulders.

Both of them were breathing heavily, and while Frank wanted more of those kisses, being held like this felt too good to stop. It was reminiscent of the first time he had been held like this, but it was better, without fear or despair, without him helplessly clinging to this man and his strength. This time Frank was able to give as well, run his hands up and down Jensen’s back, and up again, and over his head. He let his fingers card through Jensen’s hair and felt the other man shudder. Frank smiled and did it again, and Jensen buried his face into the crook of Frank’s neck with a low, vibrant hum.

“You like head scratches?” Frank whispered into Jensen’s hair. No, Adam. It had to be Adam now.

Adam hummed again. “They’re the best thing,” he muttered into Frank’s shoulder. “Don’t stop.”

Frank chuckled softly, and kept on carding his fingers through Adam’s hair, scratching softly along his scalp. Adam emitted a lot of delightful little sounds, and Frank thought he might just be able to do this forever.

Adam took a deep breath, and exhaled again in a heavy sigh. “Wanted this for so long,” he whispered.

“This?” Frank nosed the shell of Adam’s ear. “Head scratches? Kisses?”

“Everything.” Adam sighed again and leaned back, and Frank let his fingers run across Adam’s cheek again, carding them through his beard. “Since I saw you pet your snake, at my place. Couldn’t stop thinking of your hands. I wanted…” He looked down, unable to continue.

“You wanted me to pet you,” Frank said, his voice unfamiliarly soft. “Just like this?”

“Pretty much.” Adam looked up again with a wistful smile. “Though you don’t… have to coo at me.”

Frank shook his head with a smile. It wasn’t one that he was familiar with, either. But it felt good. “Then how about we relocate?” He brushed his fingers over Adam’s hair, and then gestured towards the sofa. “Then we can get comfortable and I’ll pet your hair as long as you like.”

“You would?”

The look in Adam’s eyes made Frank’s heart both flutter, and ache. There was a strange longing in his eyes, a hunger Frank wasn’t comfortable seeing, and Frank had a hard time meeting his eyes.

“Adam,” he whispered, and Adam’s eyes widened slightly at Frank’s use of his name. “When was the last time anyone touched you like this?”

“Long ago,” Adam replied. “Long before my last break-up. Things had gone sour long before that.”

Frank tried to swallow the lump in his throat. It wasn’t as if he was great on cuddling or caressing like this, but he had enjoyed physical contact during the last years. Adam hadn’t felt anyone touch him, other than for medical purposes or to hurt him, in more than two years. He stepped back, took Adam’s hand and tugged, and led him to the sofa. He sat down with his back in the corner between armrest and backrest, pulled up and leaned his left leg against the back of the sofa, and opened his arms.

“Come here,” he muttered with a smile.

Adam sat down, and after looking at Frank for a moment, he sank down, against him, his head on Frank’s shoulder. He pulled up his legs and got comfortable, and while he was heavy, Frank found the weight comforting in a way he couldn’t explain. Adam buried his face into the curve between Frank’s neck and shoulder with a sigh, and Frank could feel the tension slowly seep out of Adam’s body. His left arm slid down as he began to relax, and he relaxed even more when Frank ran one hand up and down his back while burying the other into his hair.

It was then that it went up for Frank that with everything that happened, his kidnapping and the rehab in France, it was over a year for him too that he had shared physical intimacy with someone. He wasn’t as touch-starved as Adam seemed to be, but he enjoyed this, this closeness, a lot more than he would have enjoyed sex with a stranger.

Then Adam buried even deeper into Frank’s shoulder with a heavy sigh.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Frank said and nuzzled the top of Adam’s head.

“Wouldn't’ dream of it,” was Adam’s muffled reply. He didn’t make the effort of lifting his head.

Frank closed his eyes as he buried his fingers into Adam’s hair, and listened to the small sounds of pleasure with a smile.

They should be kissing. Hands exploring each other’s bodies. Clothes strewn in a path to the bedroom. Frank was well equipped with lube and condoms in several shapes and sizes, and they should make ample use of them.

Nothing of that was important.

Frank dropped a kiss into Adam’s hair and stopped wondering what had happened to his world. Right now, it felt pretty good the way it was.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is long, because I couldn’t find a point for a break. I guess you don’t mind? Also, this chapter is mostly sex, but not all of it. If you don’t want to read it, skip the part between the asterisks *** and I will give a small summary of relevant emotional content in the end notes. Contains some oral, anal, and rimming.

Lying on his sofa with Adam, Frank thought he might just have discovered his new favourite pastime. Adam’s hair was so soft, and petting it felt better than Frank would have been able to imagine. He should use less styling gel, but he had a look to keep, after all. Maybe he wouldn’t need it hanging out at home.

Or here, at Frank’s place. Staying overnight, having breakfast together. Frank couldn’t stop himself from imagining what Adam looked like waking up, but of course now his thoughts strayed to what would happen before the falling asleep and waking up. His dick, having just about calmed down again, seemed very interested in that train of thought.

Frank wanted more of those kisses, but Adam was still lying more or less on top of him, with his face buried into the crook of Frank’s shoulder. He ran his fingers down the back of Adam’s neck and smiled as he felt and saw Adam shiver. 

“Hey,” Frank muttered. “Can you sit up?”

“Why.” 

Frank nudged Adam’s head with his chin. “Because I want to kiss you again.”

Adam emitted a half-hearted grumble, but then he pushed himself off and into a sitting position. He gave Frank a soft, almost shy smile as he reached out. Frank leaned forward again and closed the distance between them, his eyes falling shut on their own as their lips touched. He buried his fingers into Adam’s hair and when he felt Adam’s tongue flick against his lips he opened them to slide the tip of his tongue against Adam’s in a small, almost playful touch. 

Adam emitted a small sound, something between a hum and a gasp, and closed his arms around Frank’s shoulders to pull him close. Frank didn’t resist, and opening his lips he moved closer, rested his hands on Adam’s shoulder, and straddled his thighs. This time the sound coming from Adam was a small moan, and Frank dug his fingers into Adam’s hair again as he deepened the kiss. 

For a small eternity the only sounds were their heavy breaths and soft moans, interspersed with the sounds of their kisses. Then Adam rested his hands on Frank’s hips and tightened his hold, and Frank had to break free with a soft gasp followed by a moan. He ground his hips down, pressing their groins together, and Adam dropped his head against Frank’s shoulder with a breathless moan of his own. 

Frank could feel a gentle heat spread from his abdomen into his limbs and his face, and he didn’t know if he was blushing or not because he normally never did. He didn’t really care though, and he pulled back again to slide off Adam’s lap. He reached out to grab Adam’s hand and tugged. 

Frank couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted anyone this much. 

“Come to bed,” he said, and tugged again. 

Adam got up, and pulled Frank into another kiss. He nosed along Frank’s cheek and jaw line, and further down, only to be hampered by Frank’s collar. 

“Damn turtle-neck,” Adam whispered huskily, and Frank had to laugh, but it was soft, and low. Adam chuckled as well, and after releasing him he followed Frank into the bedroom. 

Frank didn’t waste any time after kicking the door shut behind him and immediately grabbed the hem of his shirt, but Adam closed the distance between them and slipped his hands under Frank’s shirt as well. Frank shuddered and closed his eyes. 

“Is this okay?” Adam whispered, hesitating. 

After a deep breath Frank opened his eyes again. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Adam took a deep breath as well. “Cold, synthetic fingers?”

Frank could only shrug. “They’re your fingers,” he said simply, nothing but the truth. Just what he had thought earlier, Adam’s touch was a sensation that only one man could give him.

Adam looked at him, his eyes misting over, but then he leaned forward and kissed him again while slowly pushing the hem of Frank’s turtle-neck up. Frank stepped back again and lifted his arms, and after pulling it over his head, Adam dropped the shirt and swallowed. He let his fingers wander down Frank’s chest with a look of almost wonder in his eyes, and then he rested his hands on Frank’s shoulders again for another kiss. 

“My turn,” Frank whispered against Adam’s lips after breaking the kiss, and slipped his hands under Adam’s sweater. He could feel Adam tense, and he understood; he understood Adam’s body issues, but he had no idea how to make him understand that it didn’t matter, that he wanted Adam just as he was. So he simply proceeded, not knowing what else to do, and after only a moment’s hesitation Adam lifted his arms and let Frank pull the sweater over his head. 

He rested his palms on Adam’s chest, in a touch that was both firm and gentle, and looked up again at Adam’s face. “Adam, the only reason why these augmentations bother me is that they bother you, that you didn’t want them and got them anyway.” He swallowed; the memories were hard to deal with sometimes. “I… I saw the blueprints, back then. Sarif told me I had to get familiar with your augmentations for basic maintenance so you wouldn’t have to go to LIMB and the labs all the time. I just… Adam, I still despised you back then, but I didn’t like what I saw and I asked… I asked Sarif if he really thought this was necessary. Needless to say he didn’t listen to any of my concerns.” He huffed. “When did he ever.”

Adam breathed out a small, mirthless chuckle and shook his head. “I sincerely doubt that anything you could have said would have changed his mind.”

Frank could only shrug. “I guess. But my point is…” He leaned forward and dropped a few kisses onto Adam’s shoulders, lips brushing against the ridges hemming the skin anchors of his arms. It elicited a violent shudder and a soft gasp from Adam, and Frank could see and hear him swallow. “Does that hurt?” he whispered, suddenly concerned he had overstepped a line.

Adam shook his head and swallowed again. “No,” he whispered back. “I just… didn’t think it would feel this way.”

“But does it feel okay?”

“More than okay,” Adam said and stepped back to cradle Frank’s face in his hands. He was clearly groping for words, but then let go of Frank’s face to close his arms around him, and pulled him close. 

Like this, chest to chest, skin on skin, Frank could feel how different Adam’s body felt to any other that Frank had ever touched. Adam’s upper body was broad and firm, but at the same time he could feel the skin bolts, despite them not being cold, warmed by the surrounding flesh. He could feel the synthetic material of his arms and shoulders on his skin, but nothing of this felt bad, or wrong, or even uncomfortable. It surprised Frank how good this felt. He was certain he did not have an augmentation kink, but that he felt like this because everything was so unique, so… Adam, really. 

They were kissing again now, hands roaming each other’s skin, and with their hips grinding against each other Adam could feel that Frank was in no way put off by his body. He still seemed hesitant to touch Frank at all; his touches were less firm, almost shy, compared to what Frank had felt when they had been sitting on his sofa, still clothed.

“Adam,” he whispered after pulling his lips away. “I really want you. I’ve always wanted to climb you like a tree, I’ve always found you so infuriatingly attractive, and your augmentations did not change that.” 

Adam let his hands wander down Frank’s back until they came to rest on his backside. He squeezed Frank’s butt, gently, and a lopsided smile appeared on his face. 

“I’m… just not used to it,” Adam said hesitantly. “I haven’t been with anyone since before.”

Frank let his hands run down Adam’s back. “You said so, yes. So… is there anything you don’t want me to do?”

Adam huffed with a small chuckle. “I wouldn’t know.” He lowered his head and dropped a few kisses onto Frank’s shoulder. 

“We just have to wing it then,” Frank replied, his skin tingling where Adam’s lips touched it. He ran his hands further down, and rested them on Adam’s backside. “Just tell me to stop.”

“I will,” Adam whispered against Frank’s neck. “And… is there something you don’t want?”

Frank couldn’t stop himself from becoming tense. Adam of course immediately sensed that and stepped back, a questioning frown on his face. 

Frank rubbed a hand down his face. “I… don’t want to ruin the mood, but I guess…” He dropped his hand with an angry sigh. “I don’t bottom. I used to be a switch, and I enjoyed it, but I haven’t…” Another sigh. “I tried. Lots of times. I just couldn’t, not since...”

“Since jail.” Adam’s voice was so low, and so gentle. He cradled Frank’s face in his palms. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. Just tell me when to stop. I don’t… I don’t care one way or the other. I don’t need to put my dick into a hole to have fun in bed.”

Frank took a deep breath and exhaled it in a long, soft sigh. Why he had been worried about Adam’s reaction, even if only for a moment, he had no idea. He should have known better. On the other hand however, Adam was the first guy during the last years Frank hadn’t taken home for just a one-night-stand. That didn’t mean he could just let Adam fuck him, but he somehow felt it might not be completely out of the question, eventually. Maybe. Hopefully. 

Frank thought back for am moment, to all those times he hadn’t even been able to let the other guy touch him. Sometimes he had gotten as far as getting penetrated before it had all gone to shit, with either a violent flashback or a feeling of deep, almost painful disgust. The thought of something like this happening with Adam was almost painful, even though he dared to hope it might never be that bad.

For now Frank did not want to push himself into anything that would make him regret tonight, so he just rested his hands on Adam’s shoulders again to pull him into another kiss. Skin to skin and pressed together like this they were both quickly breathing hard and fast, grinding their hips together while their breaths turned into soft moans. 

*************

Adam gently nipped Frank’s lower lip and pulled back, and let go of the lip very slowly. It made a shudder run down Frank’s spine and he stepped back with a small gasp. 

“Get out of those pants, Jensen,” he muttered as he hastily began to pop the button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper.

“Bossy, are we?” Adam chuckled, and reached out to take Frank’s hands. “Allow me.”

Frank swallowed hard and froze, and the sensation of Adam’s large, cool hand coming to rest on his crotch was, again, something entirely new. Frank’s eyes fluttered shut and he bit back a moan as Adam’s hand palmed the hardness in Frank’s jeans, and then he felt Adam step close again. He placed a few nips and kisses on Frank’s left shoulder while his right hand slowly slid behind the waistband of Frank’s jeans. 

“Too cold?” Adam whispered into his ear as Frank couldn’t suppress a shudder.

“No,” Frank whispered back and swallowed. “Good. Cool, a little but… good. Oh god, don’t stop.”

Adam chuckled again and cupped Frank’s erection, his fingers tracing the outline through the fabric of his briefs, and Frank dropped his head against Adam’s shoulder with a moan. It had definitely been too long since someone else had touched him there, and the fact that it was Adam’s synthetic fingers caressing him made him feel as if it was his first time with another guy. Which was nonsense, of course, because he knew what he wanted, and what to do. But he relished the sensation of everything being so new, so excitingly unfamiliar. 

But those gentle caresses were not enough, not any more, and Frank lifted his head and nipped the skin on Adam’s shoulder, just a graze of teeth, directly along the ridge of skin around a strip of black polymer. Adam dropped his head back with a gasp, and his hands sank down at his sides. Frank seized the opportunity and ran one of his hands down Adam’s front until it came to rest on Adam’s crotch. It was only a light, almost casual touch, but Adam’s moan almost sounded like a sob. 

Frank exhaled softly and began popping the buttons of Adam’s leather pants, one by one, and by the time he was done Adam was shivering. 

“Bed,” Frank said and gave Adam a gentle nudge. “I want my hands on you.”

Adam opened his eyes with a breathless chuckle, but he froze when Frank pushed his jeans and briefs down over his hips. Frank noticed Adam’s eyes on him and stepped away from the puddle of fabric with a small smirk. He let himself fall onto the bed, quickly divested himself of his socks, and knelt down onto the mattress.

“I’m waiting,” he said, his heavy-lidded gaze on Adam, and Adam’s hands that were slowly pushing the black leather down his legs. 

Adam clearly was self-conscious and not really sure of himself, and Frank had every intention to change that. Of course he couldn’t just pretend it didn’t matter at all that more than half of Adam’s body was synthetic, but it didn’t matter to him, to Frank, because all he saw was Adam’s body. He hoped that his desire was obvious enough because he wasn’t one for talking a lot once things got horizontal, but he was, after all, completely naked and there was no doubt about his arousal. Adam now knelt down on the bed as well, a shy smile on his face. 

Frank didn’t waste any time and kissed him again, and let his hand roam across the broad expanse of Adam’s muscular back. Adam closed his arms around Frank and deepened the kiss, and like this their could feel every inch of each other’s body. Their breaths came harder and faster, and eventually Frank had to break free to get some air. He reached down to caress Adam’s dick, and leaned back a little to better look at it. Adam wasn’t hung like a horse, thankfully, and his dick was as beautiful as the rest of the man was. He closed one hand around it and tugged, and couldn’t suppress a smile when Adam emitted a hoarse gasp. 

After a moment Adam reached out but hesitated before touching Frank’s dick, and although Frank could have yelled at him to finally touch him, he didn’t want to push Adam too fast. So instead, he stilled the movements of his hand and looked up. 

Adam looked up at Frank and shook his head. “I’m kind of… my fingers. The joints. Sometimes they can pinch the skin, or catch a hair, or… something.”

“I see.” Frank was slightly breathless, but despite the amount of blood that was already south of his belt he still was able to think. “We’ll figure this out, Adam.”

After a moment’s hesitation Frank moved closer, nosed along Adam’s neck and shoulder, and closed both his hands around their dicks, pressing them together. Adam dropped his head onto Frank’s shoulder with a moan and shuddered, and Frank couldn’t stay silent either as he cautiously thrust into his hands, and along Adam’s dick. Then Adam closed his hands around Frank’s, vastly increasing the friction, and they both moaned.

“Lube…” Frank gasped, and let go, rather reluctantly. “We need lube.”

With that he turned around and let himself fall forward onto his elbows, so he could open the second drawer of his night-stand, where he kept the lube and the condoms, with an outstretched arm. He grabbed the bottle and pushed himself back, still on all fours, and it occurred to him a second too late that he had made a mistake when he felt the touch of hands on his lower back. 

A split-second of jumbled memories, all the times during the last eight years that he had tried, again and again, because he had wanted it, but it had never worked out. But the expected flashback of cold tiles under his knees and elbows didn’t come. The tense moment of apprehension was not followed by a wave of fear, of disgust, of whatever bad and unpleasant memories his body had always thrown at him, because the hands that rested on his hips now were...

Cool, synthetic hands. 

Adam’s hands. Just Adam’s hands, gently cupping his buttocks, his thumbs drawing soothing circles into Frank’s skin. 

The touch felt so different that his body didn’t have the time, or maybe no reason, to engage in the usual adverse reaction to being touched like this, and against all earlier worries, he could feel himself relax. He felt Adam’s cool, synthetic fingers on his skin, and then his cheeks were spread, oh so gently, and a shiver ran down Frank’s spine, but not from fear or disgust. And before he could think of something to do, or say, he felt a gush of breath the tickle of beard, and then the touch of something hot and soft and slippery against his hole. 

The bottle of lube rolled out of his fingers as Frank dropped his head with a deep, throaty moan that he had no means to suppress. Encouraged by this reaction Adam spread Frank’s cheeks a little wider and repeated his action, with more vigour than before. Frank dug his fingers into the sheet and buried his face in his pillow to muffle the sounds he made. Every stroke of Adam’s tongue caused a violent and delicious shiver running over Frank’s back and legs, and Frank slowly kept forgetting everything but this sensation, the hot, wet touch of Adam’s tongue, the gentle grip of his cool fingers, the brush of beard against his balls and the insides of his butt cheeks. 

Frank almost wailed when Adam pulled back, but kept the sound down to a choked moan. He was shivering, he legs were trembling, and he wasn’t quite sure how far he had been from coming just like that. But now Adam got up and headed for the bathroom, and Frank slowly sank down onto his side. 

Adam came back a few moments later with a towel, half of which was wet, and was wiping his face with the wet half. 

“Figured you might not appreciate me kissing you, considering where my face just was,” he said with a crooked grin. 

Frank was too out of breath and addle-brained to think of a reply. 

“Are you okay?” Adam asked softly as he sat down next to Frank. 

“I…” Frank took a few breaths to calm himself, or at least, he tried to. 

Adam’s smile turned into a smirk. Frank tried to think of anything to say but his brain still didn’t work, so he just leaned forward and pulled Adam into another kiss. Adam followed willingly, and with a gentle nudge against Frank’s shoulder he pushed Frank onto his back without breaking the kiss. Again, Adam’s weight on top of him was comforting, and Frank closed his arms around Adam and let his hands roam the muscular back, his fingers exploring and mapping the hems and ridges of his scars and augmentations. Their kisses were no longer gentle but full of passion, hunger, and a strange kind of longing Frank couldn’t and wouldn’t dwell on, not now. 

What he did know was how much he wanted this man. He hadn’t wanted anyone this much during the last years; before, maybe, when it had been him and Jonas. But Jonas had no business being in his head right now, in his bed, and when Adam broke the kiss and nipped the skin of Frank’s neck while he ground their hips together, all rational thoughts flew out of the window. 

“I want you,” Frank said, or rather gasped, his fingers digging into the skin of Adam’s back. “God, Adam, I want you so much…”

“I’m all yours,” Adam all but purred into Frank’s ear, voice even lower and a lot more husky than usual. “What do you want, Frank?”

“I want you,” Frank said again, and swallowed when Adam pushed himself up to be able to look at him. “I want you all the way.”

“Frank…” The voice, so soft. The finger caressing his cheekbone, so gentle. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never wanted anything this much,” Frank rasped, the words rough and breathless. “Never wanted anyone this much.”

Adam’s eyes widened, and he swallowed so hard Frank could almost hear it. Instead of answering Adam just lowered himself down again for another kiss, less bruising, less hungry, but no less passionate. When he broke the kiss again he kept Frank's bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, a playful tug, not painful in the slightest. 

Frank watched him sit up, onto his knees, and his heart was hammering in his chest when Adam picked up the bottle of lube. And then he froze.

“Adam?”

Adam dropped his head with a sigh of defeat, and then lifted one of his hands. The mechanical fingers curled and uncurled, and Adam just stared at them as they did so. Frank knew how these hands worked, he had seen the blueprints, and he had now felt them on his skin, almost all over his body. Adam had mentioned the joints could pinch, which was the reason he hadn’t wanted to touch Frank's dick yet, after all. 

Frank didn’t want to see that frown on Adam’s face, but he couldn’t think of anything he could do. Instead he propped himself onto his elbows. 

“Adam, I can do the prepping, it’s okay.”

“I…” Adam narrowed his eyes. “You have condoms?”

“I do,” Frank replied, with a twitch of his head into the direction of his night stand. “Second drawer.” 

Adam nodded and leaned forward, opened the drawer, and rummaged around in it. He fished out two, and sat up again after closing the drawer. He didn’t meet Frank’s eyes, and Frank could feel a small frown of confusion form on his face. 

“Adam…” he said hesitantly. “I haven’t done this in a long time, so I think I need some-”

“Trust me?” was all that Adam said. And then he looked up, right into Frank’s eyes.

It was ridiculous. A year ago or so he wouldn’t have trusted Jensen with a bag of trash to be thrown out. But here, like, this, after everything that had happened? He didn’t only trust Adam with his life. He trusted Adam with everything. 

“I do,” Frank replied, his voice small and low, but not hesitant. 

Adam smiled, a smile that was both tender and incredulous, but then he looked down again and unwrapped one of the condoms, a size S. Frank wasn’t an expert, and his visual judgement wasn’t the best, but Adam was definitely an L, maybe an XL, depending on the brand. 

And while Frank had no idea what Adam was planning, because his determined face clearly told him he had a plan, Frank didn’t feel a trace of apprehension. Maybe it should have scared him, how not scared he was. He had never felt safer in his entire life. 

Adam looked up again with a slightly victorious smirk. He had rolled the condom over his right index finger, and now dribbled some lube onto it. 

“I hope this works,” he muttered and ran a gentle hand down Frank’s thigh, nudging it aside as his hand reached the curve of Frank’s ass. 

Frank kept his eyes on Adam’s face as he moved the other leg, opening himself and baring himself in a way he hadn’t done in years. And yet he didn’t feel exposed, or helpless. Not at all.

“Tell me if this is okay,” Adam whispered as he touched Frank. 

Frank’s eyes fluttered shut at the gentle nudge of a cool finger against his hole. A soft circling motion, a gentle pressure. 

“Frank, you have to breathe.” Adam’s low, husky voice directly next to his ear. 

Frank hadn’t been aware he had been holding his breath, but he let it break free in a huff. Adam dropped a kiss onto his forehead and continued, gently, carefully, until Frank was able to relax enough and the finger slipped inside. 

Both men froze, Frank with a gasp, his eyes wide, Adam with his mouth half open and his eyes pinched shut. 

“You okay?” An urgent whisper.

“Yes,” Frank stuttered breathlessly. “Yes… god, yes…”

Adam carefully pulled out, poured more lube onto his finger, and gently pushed inside again. All the time his left hand kept caressing Frank’s right leg, curling around the knee, running up and down thigh and calf, as if he knew exactly that like this, filled with awareness on every heartbeat of Adam’s touch, the touch of hands that no one else had, Frank could feel safe. 

Frank had missed this sensation. Not only having something up his ass, just the gentle, careful administrations that didn’t necessarily mean sex but more like making love, something he hadn’t done since before jail, and like this, definitely never. He would definitely never have expected to ever find himself in bed with this man, and he would absolutely never have thought he would feel this safe again, ever. 

Adam slowly moved his finger out and in, and circled the finger with gentle pressure outward. At no point during his ministrations did Frank hurt or even feel discomfort, and by the time Adam pulled the finger out again he was panting. Adam hadn’t found his sweet spot yet, hampered by the lose-fitting condom, but that was only a matter of time. 

“You okay?” Adam asked again, and Frank nodded, mouth dry.

He wanted this. He wanted this so, so much. And he prayed to whatever entity held his fate, that this time he would be able to enjoy it. 

Adam sank back onto his heels so he was kneeling between Frank’s legs, and rolled the other condom on. He dribbled a generous amount of lube onto himself, and then nudged Frank’s legs a little more apart with his own. 

A last look into Frank’s eyes, looking for consent, for confirmation, and Frank nodded, too breathless for words. 

Adam rested his hands on Frank’s hips and nudged the tip of his dick against Frank’s hole without taking his eyes off Frank’s face. Another nudge and his head slowly slipped in, and Frank let his head fall back as Adam hissed out a husky moan. 

Adam slowly slid deeper, with short, gentle thrusts of his hips, every move slow and careful, controlled with sheer force of will. Sweat was glistening on Adam’s cheeks and forehead from the effort of moving slow, agonizingly slow for him, and Frank felt his heart break and mend on the same heartbeat seeing Adam like this. 

Eventually Adam was fully sheathed, without a second of pain, a little discomfort from the fact he wasn’t used to this any more, his body not used to intrusions like this. His mind, his soul, were welcoming the touch with open arms. And Frank just kept looking at Adam, who was now moving with slow, shallow thrusts, his eyes always on Frank’s face. 

But then he stopped, took a deep breath, and leaned forward. “Close your legs around my hips,” he whispered, and claimed Frank’s lips in a gentle kiss as Frank did what he had asked. 

Adam then moved one of his hands up along Frank’s side to shove it under his back. The other hand did the same under his hips, and once Adam had one hand between Frank’s shoulders and the other on his lower back he straightened up again, lifting Frank as effortlessly as if he weighed nothing. 

For a moment Frank was completely suspended in the air, held only by Adam’s hands and arms, and then he was upright, sitting in Adam’s lap. A moment of adjusting and he sank deeper down on Adam’s dick, and a moan burst out of him he couldn’t suppress. Adam still had one hand on the small of Frank’s back and the other between his shoulders as he began to move, and Frank slung his arms around Adam’s neck, his forehead dropping onto Adam’s shoulder. 

A part of Frank was still waiting for the moment it would all go to shit, the moment his body decided this was too much, but all he could feel were Adam’s synthetic arms around him, cool polymer fingers on his skin, the same synthetic material of Adam’s legs under his thighs. 

They soon found a rhythm and an angle that was perfect, their moans and harsh breaths mingling with the sound of skin against skin, and although Frank’s dick was trapped between their bodies he couldn’t feel himself approach orgasm, but he didn’t care. The sensation of Adam inside him, of moving like this, being as close as they could possibly get, was too good to feel anything but bliss. 

Adam’s breath was coming harder and faster now, but Frank could feel how he held himself back, how he didn’t want to let himself go. Frank dropped a few sloppy kisses on Adam’s shoulder, and a few on his neck. Adam knew that as soon as Frank climaxed he would be too sensitive for Adam to continue fucking him, and his aim seemed to be to get Frank there first and maybe take care of himself later. Such a typical Adam Jensen thing to do, Frank thought, and nipped Adam’s earlobe. 

“I want you to come,” he whispered into Adam’s ear, and he could feel Adam loose his rhythm as he shuddered with a groan. “I just want you to feel inside me, and you can take care of me later.” A kiss onto the shell of Adam’s ear. “Adam…”

Adam shuddered again, but his grip on Frank tightened a little, and his thrusts picked up speed. Following a sudden impulse Frank let go of Adam’s shoulders and let himself fall back, but of course Adam’s impossibly strong arms held him, safe and secure, while Adam’s soft, husky moans came faster and faster, and turned into loud, throaty gasps. He shuddered, lost his rhythm, and then he threw his head back with a hoarse bellow that vibrated through Frank’s chest. 

Adam’s head fell down again, and breathing raggedly harsh and fast, he leaned forward and gently placed Frank back down onto the mattress. He pulled out and got rid of the condom, and then fell fell forward, catching himself on his hands on both sides of Frank’s head. He stared at Frank, eyes wide, and small droplets of sweat fell from his face. One landed on Frank’s cheek, but Frank could only smile. 

Adam sank down with a soft moan, and immediately claimed Frank’s lips for another kiss. Then he rolled off him and pulled Frank close to kiss him again, and pressed against Adam’s body Frank could feel his thundering and only slowly calming heartbeat. His own heart was still racing, his dick half-hard because the sensations from being fucked had drowned out everything else. 

But now Adam let his hand wander down Frank’s chest, the tip of a finger flicking a nipple, and without breaking the kiss Adam let his hand trail lower. Then he stopped, and broke the kiss. Frank was confused at first, but then he remembered the fingers. Before he could say anything however Adam smiled again, and leaned over Frank to kiss his neck, his shoulders, his chest; he trailed kisses down his abdomen and lower, until his nose brushed the base of Frank’s rapidly hardening dick. 

For a moment Adam teased, nudged Frank’s dick with his nose, mouthed along the shaft without actually opening his lips, but as a the next touch drew a whimper from Frank that he couldn’t suppress he shifted onto his elbow and slipped the tip of Frank’s dick between his lips. Frank wanted to watch, he really did, but what Adam now did with his tongue made Frank’s eyes roll back, and his head dropped back into the pillow. 

Frank could feel the tips of Adam’s thumb and forefinger close around his dick to carefully pull the foreskin down, and then the wet heat of Adam’s mouth engulfed him and every last shred of his ability to think dissipated into a blissful haze. Adam did incredible things with his tongue, and he sucked and bobbed his head and it felt as if he could read Frank’s mind, because everything he did was perfect. 

Frank was rapidly approaching his point of no return, and he dug his fingers into Adam’s hair to warn him of his impending orgasm with a tug. Unsurprisingly Adam’s head stayed where it was, and moments later Frank came with a drawn out moan, and Adam kept sucking and swallowing until Frank shuddered with a small whine of overstimulation. 

Adam immediately let go, grabbed the towel to wipe the lower half of his face, and then sank down next to Frank again, pulling him close. 

*************

His heartbeat only slowly calming down Frank snuggled up into Adam’s embrace as tightly as he could, and Adam slung one leg over Frank’s as he kissed Frank’s temple. 

“You okay?” Adam asked in a low whisper. 

“Never been better,” Frank replied, almost dreamily. “I didn’t expect that, though.”

“Neither did I.” Adam nuzzled Frank’s hair. “But it was amazing.”

He turned his head to look at Adam, and he found an answering smile there that was as beautiful as it was breathtaking. They shared a few more kisses, gentle, unhurried ones, tongues sliding against each other in almost playful touches. 

Frank felt a warmth and contentment spread in his whole body that he couldn’t remember ever having felt before. He closed his eyes with a sigh, and let himself get lost in the peaceful afterglow of their lovemaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank hasn’t bottomed since his time in jail where he was raped. He has tried several times throughout the last years, but just couldn’t do it. He wants Adam enough to try again, and because Adam’s touch really feels like nothing else, and because he trusts Adam with more than his life, he can finally enjoy sex like that with him. Adam is as gentle and careful as he can be, making sure that it feels good for Frank, with definite success.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Denton, made by the amazing [mrs-chief](https://mrs-chief.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

Adam hadn’t been able to imagine this happening any time soon. He had been imagining it, of course, had dared to daydream about it, but nothing came close to actually having Frank in his arms like this. He had felt more than apprehensive about being naked, he still hated his mirror image, after all. But he should have known that Frank would not look at him with disgust, barely concealed or openly.

It felt strange, thinking that someone would want him this much, but there was no denying it, not after what had just happened. He still had a difficult time to process some of it; Frank had told him he hadn’t been able to enjoy sex like this in years, and yet, here they were. Adam had, at first, even used his CASIE to make sure everything was okay, not because he felt Frank was lying to him, but because he had to be sure, he couldn’t let himself feel a trace of doubt. He should probably come clean about that to Frank rather sooner than later.

But not right now. Right now he just wanted to lie here, bathe in the warm afterglow, holding Frank his in arms. Both of them were still naked, and Adam couldn’t find it in himself in this moment to hate his body, not when Frank had so obviously enjoyed his touches.

His thoughts began to drift back, back to earlier, and their first kiss, and while he didn’t want to face the time before, he couldn’t stop himself. Their first embrace had been nothing like what had happened less than an hour ago, although it had felt so good to hold Frank, to know that he was alive and would be okay.

But before, no, he didn’t want to think about before, about that agony, the nightmares, and he wasn’t even aware of what was happening until Frank lifted his head.

“Adam? Are you… crying?”

Adam inhaled sharply but yes, he was crying, there were tears on his face and staining the skin of Frank’s shoulder. Frank turned from his back onto his side to look at him.

“I couldn’t…” Adam’s voice was low and husky. “I can’t stop thinking about… when you were gone. I missed you so much. I didn’t even realise it until…” He swallowed. “Until Boston.”

“What happened in Boston?” Frank asked hesitantly.

“I went there to find the specialists,” Adam replied. “The ones who took over your case, but I discovered that the people who were in Detroit hadn’t been from Boston. They had been impostors, and had falsified the reports.”

He paused, and Frank swallowed drily.

“I didn’t think,” Adam went on, his voice even lower. “I needed to know who from the DPD ordered in the specialists, and I… I didn’t think. I used your name, from sheer bloody habit I called you through the infolink, I wanted to tell you that you need to get in touch with the DPD. It hit me the moment I said your name. Hit me like a train.”

He could see Frank’s eyes mist over.

“That’s when swore I would find your… murderer, and make them pay,” Adam went on. “I had… I just broke down. I don’t know what had kept me running so long. It was just that moment where it really hit. Where it really hurt.”

“Adam…”

“It’s so fucked up!” Adam choked out. “It wasn’t before you were gone that I realised I’d never seen you smile or laugh, and that I never would! And I never got why that was so painful until I had that breakdown in Boston and… and realised that I…”

It was too much. He didn’t want to think of Boston right now. He didn’t want to think of anything that had happened before tonight.

“Adam,” Frank whispered again reached out to run his fingers through Adam’s hair. “I…”

“I just… I don’t know what to say.” Adam said eventually without looking at him. “Those weeks were a living hell for you, and I don’t want to make this about me, but…”

“But it wasn’t easy for you either,” Frank finished for him. “It’s okay. You were hurting too.”

And yes, yes he had. Adam having realised his feelings for Frank when it had been too late had hurt like hell. The fact that it had later turned out it hadn’t been too late after all didn’t change what he had gone through, from the moment he had seen the burnt out window to pulling Frank into his arms in Toronto.

The image popped into his head, a violent intrusion that he couldn’t stop and that made him grit his teeth.

Frank’s eye widened with worry. “Adam?”

“I made a mistake,” Adam said huskily, but closing his eyes did nothing against the memory. “When I was trying to find a lead. I went to the precinct and talked to the officer on the case, and he had files I hadn’t seen. I wanted to… to see if there was anything else there than the reports Sarif had gotten his hands on. But there wasn’t. There wasn’t anything apart form a folder with pictures, from the scene. And I didn’t think. I just wanted more than I already had, and I just opened it. I should have known… I should’ve known what was in that file. I’ve been a cop. I should have known.”

Frank stared at him with parted lips.

“It was only the first one that I looked at,” Adam went on, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice. “But I saw it, and it was too late. It was just… taken from the door frame, and there was a small part of the bed but… there was also… an arm hanging out.”

Adam now reached out and took Frank’s right hand in his own, the back of Frank’s hand against Adam’s palm. Then Adam threaded his fingers between Frank’s own, curled their joined fingers, and brought them to his lips to kiss Frank’s knuckles.

“I know it wasn’t yours,” Adam whispered against the skin of Frank’s fingers. “I know now it wasn’t yours, but back then…” He kissed Frank’s knuckles again. “It was giving me nightmares, both asleep and awake.”

“Adam,” Frank whispered. “Is there anything I can do?”

Adam shook his head. “You can’t fight my nightmares for me. Just like I can’t fight yours for you, as much as I want to.”

Frank reached out and rested a hand on Adam’s cheek, his other hand still entwined with Adam’s own. Adam didn’t know what to say, and neither did Frank, but the almost simultaneously moved their heads to bring their foreheads together.

No, he couldn’t fight Frank’s nightmares for him, and Frank couldn’t fight Adam’s. But maybe, they wouldn’t have to fight them alone any more, not all the time.

After a moment of silently sharing their breath between them Frank unravelled his fingers, and sat up to grab the edge of his comforter. Adam helped him spread it out over the two of them, and then Frank carded his fingers through Adam’s hair again.

“Big or little?”

Adam blinked in confusion. “Hm?”

“Do you want to be the big or the little spoon?” Frank asked, a small smile on his face.

“I’m… always the big spoon so-”

“Adam, I asked what you want to be.”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat, and his stomach fluttered, and he almost felt too embarrassed to ask, but Frank still had his fingers in Adam’s hair, and there was still that smile on his face that Adam couldn’t get enough of.

“I…” He licked his lips.

“Oh come here,” Frank said, in what was his usual ‘I am losing my patience with your idiocy’ voice. “And turn around.”

Unable to meet his eyes Adam moved closer and turned around, and because Frank was only a little less than two inches shorter he could easily wrap himself around Adam’s body, one arm slung across Adam’s chest to pull him close.

Adam couldn't’ remember the last time he had been held like this. The longer he thought the surer he was that this was a first, and he felt himself relax into Frank’s arms, against his chest, and huffed out a deep sigh that made Frank chuckle. A gentle touch of lips against the back of Adam’s neck made him shudder, but then all he felt was warm contentment and the tug of sleep.

* * *

Adam opened his eyes to a feeling of disorientation, because he wasn’t in his own bed. Only seconds later he remembered that he was in Frank’s bed, and what had happened last night. He was, however, alone in this bed, and he slowly turned onto his back. The sun was already falling through the blinds in narrow blades of gold, and Adam squinted into the light as he sat up.

Since Frank lived here it was safe to assume he hadn’t walked out, but considering what happened why would he, even if it would have happened at Adam’s place? Adam got up, arched his back, and went hunting for his clothes. He didn’t bother with more than his boxers and pants however, and after utilising the bathroom he left the bedroom bare-chested, and with a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Oh, it’s alive!”

Adam blinked, and felt a slow smile creep onto his face. Frank was sitting on the sofa, in light grey sweatpants and a ridiculously oversized hoodie sweater, his back against the armrest and his knees pulled up. He was clutching a large mug of steaming coffee, and Denton was curled around his neck and shoulders, unbothered by the hair hanging loosely around Frank’s face.

“Morning,” Adam muttered and sat down next to Frank’s feet. He decided not to comment on the light-blue knitted socks, but Frank emitted a soft snort.

“I can see what you’re looking at, Jensen. I won them.”

“Won them?” Adam rested a hand on one of Frank’s knees.

“The other day. I was out for groceries, and there were a few girl scouts selling raffle tickets. And since not even I can be mean to little girl scouts I bought a couple, and went home with these.” He wiggled his toes. “They’re comfy, but I’d rather drop dead than be caught wearing them, so I only wear them at home.”

“I don’t see you dropping dead,” Adam said, his smile growing into a grin.

“I am relying on you not to go around telling people Frank Pritchard wears blue fuzzy socks at home.”

“My lips are sealed.”

They exchanged a smile, and Adam rested his other hand on Frank’s other knee, and rested his chin on his hands. “Is there a chance that there’s more coffee somewhere?”

“Sure.” Frank sat up and put his own mug onto the coffee table as Adam got onto his feet. “Hold that for a moment,” he said then, and picked up Denton to drape him around Adam’s shoulders.

Adam froze, but Denton didn’t seem to mind, since he was resting on Adam’s bare skin, not his cold augmentations. The smile he felt on his face now had to look ridiculous, because Denton got comfortable, and the feeling of the silky scales against his skin was the sensation he had thought he could never feel.

Frank came back somewhat later with another large mug, and he stood in front of Adam for a moment, smiling but seemingly hesitant, almost shy. Adam leaned forward and dropped a kiss onto his lips, and Frank relaxed with a soft hum. As they kissed Denton made no secret of his loyalties, and by the time they parted he was curled around Frank’s shoulders again.

“Guess he likes you better than me,” Adam said with a chuckle as he took the offered mug. “But felt nice, holding him.”

“It’s therapeutic,” Frank said and sat down again. He took his coffee and pulled up his legs. “He helps me relax.”

Adam sat down as well, and they sipped their coffee in a relaxed, pleasant silence.

“Jensen… eh, I mean, Adam.” Frank huffed a slightly exasperated chuckle. “Not quite used to that.”

“What is it, Pritchard?” Adam said, looking up at him with a grin.

“I’m thinking…”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“You asshole!” Frank laughed and tried to kick Adam in the ribs.

Adam caught the foot in a firm grip, and grinned at Frank while digging a thumb into the sole of Frank’s foot.

“Forget it, Jensen, I’m not ticklish.”

“Bummer.” Adam let go of the foot again, but rested it on his thigh. “What have you been thinking about?”

“Tomorrow,” Frank said, and the smile dimmed. “The party.”

“Right.” The Christmas party at Sarif Industries. “Managed to forget about that. What about it?”

Frank took a deep breath and looked into his coffee. “How do we… handle this? Us?”

Adam knew what he meant. It wasn’t work, so any public display of affection between couples wasn’t a problem, but this was all so new. “Do you have a preference?”

Frank didn’t look up. “I guess it doesn’t come as a surprise that I’m not big on PDA. But I don’t want you to think I’m… embarrassed by you, or ashamed of being seen with you.”

“Neither am I,” Adam replied and took a sip of his coffee. “But at the end of the day it doesn’t make a difference to me. We can do whatever you feel comfortable with.”

“I’ll have to get used to this, I guess.” Now Frank finally looked up again, a grateful smile on his lips. “Thanks.”

“I might flirt with you a little, though.”

“That’s going to be the talk of the party,” Frank replied drily.

Adam shrugged. “After what happened, how I was looking for your killers and everything, I doubt anyone would be surprised if I try to hit on you.”

Frank chuckled. “By all means. But I guess people will think you’re using your CASIE if I actually respond to Jensen flirting with anything else than snapping at him.”

“Yeah, about that…” Adam took a deep breath and now it was his turn to stare into his cup. “Confession time.” He looked up only very hesitantly.

“You used the CASIE on me,” Frank said, and a small furrow appeared between his eyebrows. “When?”

“Last night,” Adam replied. “Just for a moment. Just when I was… uh… when we started. Just to make sure you’re really sure you want this.”

The furrow deepened into a frown. “And me saying so wasn’t enough?”

“I didn’t think you were lying!” Adam said hastily. “I just… I needed to be more than sure. I was worried I’d miss if you’d get uncomfortable and stop too late.”

Frank huffed out a heavy sigh, but the frown disappeared again. “I get where you’re coming from. And it’s comforting that you care so much.” Then he nudged Adam’s stomach with his foot. “But don’t do that again.”

“I won’t.” Adam shook his head. “I promise. I would have told you last night, but I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Finally, Frank smiled again. “Also appreciated. But as a penance you will now make the next coffee. My coffee maker is the same make as yours.”

“Sure.” Adam lifted Frank’s foot from his lap. “And thanks for letting me off this lightly.”

“Well,” Frank drawled and stretched out his legs. “You could throw in a blow job to be on the safe side.”

Adam chuckled as he headed for the kitchen, but the longer he thought about it, the more appealing the thought became. By the time he carried the coffee towards the sofa his mind was made up, and he waited until Frank was sitting down again after having put Denton back into the terrarium. Then he put the coffee down, but instead of sitting on the sofa he knelt down between Frank’s knees.

Frank looked down and licked his lips, his eyes and pupils widening.

“Better safe than sorry,” Adam muttered with a smirk, and pulled the drawstring of Frank’s sweatpants lose.

* * *

Adam had been patrolling the lobby, the second, and the third floor repeatedly for “safety concerns”, but by now he didn’t have any excuse any more not to show up at the actual party down in the atrium.

He and Frank were absolutely on the same page regarding office parties, but this one, the Christmas party, wasn’t one they could skip. Looking around Adam finally spotted Frank, leaning onto one of the standing bistro tables at the right side of the atrium, staring at an empty glass. Another person was there as well, and Adam narrowed his eyes when he recognised Buckner. He seemed to be talking a mile a minute, and Adam didn’t need his CASIE to see how annoyed Frank was. Probably one step away from telling Buckner to fuck off.

Adam headed for the bar, casting a passing glance at the two, and could see in Frank’s expression that he had seen Adam. So far they didn’t acknowledge each other any further, and Adam thought of the best approach to resolve the situation without getting completely and utterly distracted by the image of Frank Pritchard in a slim-fitting black suit. Frank Pritchard in a suit should not be this sexy. He had no right to be this sexy. In public.

It kind of wasn’t fair.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

Adam forced himself to look at the bartender and cleared his throat. “The guy in the black suit and the ponytail, what did he have?”

The bartender looked over his shoulder, and back at Adam. “A Martini.”

“Good. One of those, and an Old Fashioned.”

“Coming right up.”

Equipped with the drinks Adam approached the two cybersecurity experts, with the firm intention of getting rid of one to be able to flirt with the other.

“Evening,” he said as he had reached the table. He gave first Buckner, then Frank a once-over. “Nice suit, Pritchard.”

Frank narrowed his eyes.

“Looking good,” Adam said, and put down the two glasses. “Drink?”

His frown turning into bafflement, Frank looked at him. “How did you…”

“I cheated and asked the bartender,” Adam said, and winked.

Buckner, not failing to notice that Adam had only brought two drinks, and that neither he nor Frank acknowledged his presence any further, now patted the surface of the table and left.

“Thanks,” Frank muttered under his breath. “I didn’t know how to make him shut up without causing a scene that Sarif would not have liked.”

“Seems I’m getting into the habit of saving you from unpleasant situations.” Adam took a sip of his drink.

“I am not a damsel in distress, Jensen,” Frank said, but it didn’t have the usual bite.

“You know I like my knight-in-shining-armour routine too much to let that stop me.” Adam’s smile widened when he noticed that Frank was trying to keep his customary scowl in his face.

“Come on, Pritchard,” he muttered and leaned forward. “No one is going to faint if you allow your face to relax.”

“This is my relaxed face, Jensen.” Frank picked up his glass.

“You can do better than that.”

“Are you telling me I would look better when I smile?”

“Everyone does,” Adam said with a nonchalant shrug. “But that’s a stupid pick-up line. I’d rather find something that gives you a reason to smile.”

Frank huffed. “Good luck with that.” There was a twinkle in his eyes, however.

“Challenge accepted,” Adam replied, picked up his glass.

Frank shook his head with a snort, and a soft little smile. He picked the olive out of his glass that he daintily popped into his mouth.

“See? Already successful.” Adam took a sip of his drink with a victorious smirk.

“Christ, what do you want, Jensen?” Frank dropped the toothpick into his empty glass. “A medal?”

“No. But another drink with you, maybe?”

Frank blinked, but then he shook his head again, this time with a chuckle. “Fine. But you get the drinks.”

Adam winked, pushed himself off the table, and headed towards the bar with a spring in his step he hadn’t felt in a long time.


	24. Chapter 24

After spending a whole evening desperately trying to keep their hands off each other, Adam would have expected them to end up in a corner somewhere on their way home, or at least end up in bed together again. He had certainly been looking forward to that.

But a whole evening of pretending to just be co-workers who were getting slightly better along, pretending that nothing earth-shattering had happened between them, had taken its toll on Frank. Adam had stopped flirting with him at one point but people had still been looking, staring even, and hardly any of that was directed at Adam. A lot of people wanted to talk to Frank too, but Adam couldn’t think of anything to divert their attention.

At one point, some idiot from IT – and Adam was sure Frank would have _words_ with whoever it was – had activated holoprocessors that made mistletoes appear in the air at random intervals and locations.

Most people had found that hilarious, but despite Adam keeping his distance now, Frank had been stressed to the level of falling back to his old, abrasive self. Adam hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even frowned; but Frank had left the party as soon as he could, and hadn’t even looked at Adam. Adam hadn’t needed to use his CASIE to understand Frank needed some space, personal space as well as breathing space, and had just let him go.

After about half an hour, when Adam guessed Frank was well on his way home, he took out his phone and texted him.

_Hey, you don’t have to reply to this. You clearly need some space. Just wanted to let you know I’m not upset. Take care of yourself._

It was another half an hour later when Adam’s phone buzzed. He retreated to a quiet corner as inconspicuously as he could.

> _I don’t know what’s wrong with me._

Adam sighed with a deep frown.

_Nothing is wrong with you. You were under scrutiny the whole night. Gotta be exhausted. Just rest._

> _Thank you, Adam_

Adam hesitated for a moment, before replying.

_Can I see you tomorrow? Or the day after?_

It took Frank a lot longer to reply this time, and Adam was beginning to regret having asked, when his phone buzzed again. He took a deep breath before reading the message.

> _I want to sleep in tomorrow but I wouldn’t mind spending the next few days curled up somewhere with my two favourite boys_

A smile crept onto Adam’s face that he hoped no one would notice.

_Do I need to feel jealous again?_

> _Not necessary. You have proven yourself worthy and capable of handling my snake._

Adam squinted at his phone screen and lifted one eyebrow.

_Did you just?_

> _No idea what you’re talking about. I’m about to fall asleep. Good night, Adam._

_Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow._

Adam slipped his phone back into his pocket with a smile and a shake of his head.

The rest of the party was dragging on until well after two o’clock. At that point Adam didn’t know if he was about to keel over from tiredness or pass out from sheer boredom. But then the bar closed, and he was finally allowed to wrap things up, lock everything down, and set up the alarms again. It was almost three in the morning when he fell into his bed, but as tired as he was, he didn’t fall asleep instantly.

But it was nice, lying here in his bed and thinking of Friday and Saturday night. He and Frank had spent a very lazy Saturday together, and Adam had spent the night at Frank’s place, after getting himself a small overnight bag. Memories of both nights made him feel both warm and heavy and made his heart more than flutter a little, but he was too tired to do something about it. So instead of thinking about the look on Frank’s face while Adam had his dick in his mouth, he thought of fingers carding through his hair, and he fell asleep with a smile.

* * *

Adam crawled out of bed long past ten, and the first thing he did after using the bathroom was text Frank.

_Sorry people just didn’t want to go home I was in bed at like three_

> _Fuck. Are you okay? You can stay in bed if you need more sleep_

_I slept enough, though I wouldn’t mind spending some more time in a bed that isn’t my own_

Adam dropped his phone onto the bed with a smile and got dressed. He pondered if he should take more spare clothes but he didn’t want to overwhelm Frank with coming at him like a bull at the gate, so he didn’t pack anything. He still had two pairs of boxers and a spare toothbrush there, it would have to be enough.

He made a detour on his way to Frank’s place, past a small cafe where he occasionally treated himself to some baked goods as an alternative to cereals to fill up on sugar. But since he didn’t know what Frank would like he ended up buying a large bag of mixed rolls and pastries large enough to feed a family. And for good measure one of their chocolate cakes, a whole one, because it was his favourite, and if Frank didn’t like it, it surely wouldn’t go to waste.

Frank stared at him for three seconds after opening the door. His eyes wandered from Adam’s face to the large paper bag in his hand, to the white cardboard box in his other hand, and back to Adam’s face.

“How many people do you plan on feeding?”

“Two,” Adam said with a grin and held out both bag and box to Frank so he could get rid of his boots and coat.

“Are you trying to fatten me up for Christmas?” Frank asked with narrowed eyes, and a small smirk.

“Well,” Adam said and straightened up. “I can count your ribs when you’re shirtless, so maybe I should at least give it a try.”

“Are you saying I’m not taking care of myself enough?” Frank deposited the baked goods in the kitchen and switched on the coffee maker.

“Maybe.” Adam joined him in the kitchen and rested his hands on Frank’s shoulders when the latter turned around to face him. “I can do that though, if you let me.”

“Do what?” Frank tilted his head.

“Take care of you,” Adam replied softly, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Frank’s ear before leaning in for a kiss.

Kissing Frank was still making his nerves spark and his skin tingle, and by the time they parted, his heart was racing too. Frank’s hands were folded at the back of Adam’s neck, and they shared a smile.

“I could do this forever,” Adam muttered, running a hand down Frank’s back while the other rested on his hip.

“Maybe we should eat something first,” Frank replied and pecked a small kiss onto Adam’s lips. “But afterwards, we can work on that.”

“Sounds good.”

After having eaten and tidied up together in what Frank had called ‘ridiculously romantic domesticity’, they equipped themselves with more coffee to relocate to the sofa. Said sofa was more or less occupied by a snake.

“Hey Denton,” Adam said with a smile. “How’s it going?”

“Slithering, more like,” Frank said with a small grin and put his cup down. “I had to learn the hard way never to wear him when I open the door. Let me just…”

Adam watched with a smile as Frank collected Denton and draped him around arms and shoulders to carry him towards the terrarium. He sat down and got comfortable, and once Frank joined him there he pulled him close, buried his face into Frank’s hair, and huffed out a deep sigh.

“You okay?” Frank muttered.

“More than okay.” Adam nuzzled Frank’s hair.

“I’m… Adam, I’m sorry about last night. I don’t-”

“Frank.” Adam peeled his face out of Frank’s hair. “I could see how hounded you looked after the tenth person tried to talk to you about what you went through, as if that was any of their business.”

Frank dropped his head onto Adam’s shoulder. “I don’t… do well when my personal space isn’t respected.”

“And you can’t yell at people to back off.”

“Exactly.”

Frank was still tense, and Adam didn't want that, but he had no idea what to do about it.

Then Frank took a deep breath, but without lifting his head. “I thought after months of therapy I could deal better with these things, but apparently there are some things where I don’t have any other defense mechanism than getting aggressive.”

“Like personal space.”

Frank didn’t reply, but he was even more tense than before.

“Hey,” Adam muttered into Frank's hair. “It’s okay.”

“It really isn’t,” Frank replied, voice strained. “I thought finally knowing why I’m like this would help me cope, but it doesn't.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Frank finally lifted his head with a frustrated grunt. “I really don’t want to talk about it,” he said then. “But I have to, because I don’t want all this bullshit I carry around with me to come between us because I’m incapable of dealing with my own feelings!”

Every single word of that sentence had come out heavy and sharp, as if it was a jagged rock Frank had to drag out of a hole and drop at his feet. Adam had no idea what to say or what to do, so he just closed his arms around Frank’s middle.

“It’s prison,” Frank finally pressed out. “Most of it comes down to my time in prison, including the issue about personal space.”

Adam waited, but when Frank didn't say anything else, he took a deep breath. “How long?”

“I got five years,” Frank replied after a moment, and Adam had to force himself to keep calm, because five years could break a lot of men. “Sarif bailed me out after four weeks. The worst weeks of my life, and that includes the time I spent in Toronto enjoying Jonas’ hospitality.”

After a moment’s hesitation Adam lifted one hand and rested it on the side of Frank’s face, his thumb brushing across the sharp cheekbone. “Is there anything I can do?”

Frank shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“If there ever is, tell me.” Adam combed his fingers through Frank’s hair, brushing it back from his face. “I promise I’ll do what I can.”

“I know.” Frank’s voice was soft, and he leaned a little closer. “Right now though I want to stop thinking about all this bullshit and make out with you for the rest of the day.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Adam muttered, and closed his eyes as Frank closed the distance between them.

It was easy to forget about everything else, when he was kissing Frank, holding him, and listening to the soft sounds he made as they kissed. But then Frank nipped Adam’s bottom lip and pulled back. Adam opened his eyes, and felt a small shiver creep down his spine when he saw the look in Frank’s eyes.

Frank licked his lips with a flick of his tongue. “I want you naked in my bed,” he said, voice husky with lust. “And I want your dick in my mouth.”

Adam swallowed, but he quickly got up and was already pulling off his shirt before he had reached the bedroom door. Frank chuckled as he followed him, but he, too, had already discarded his hoodie and was now pulling a grey tank top over his head.

They almost fell over their own feet, and each other’s, in their hurry to get out of their clothes. There were a lot of chuckles and giggles mingled into their heavy breaths and moans as they made their way to the bed.

A final push, and Adam found himself naked and on his back on Frank’s bed, and Frank straddled his hips, his fingers resting on Adam’s bare chest.

“Finally,” Frank muttered, his voice low and husky.

Adam closed his eyes with a breathless chuckle that turned into a moan when Frank’s hands made their way across his body. Then Frank slid off his hips and bend over Adam’s body to cover all the skin he could reach with kisses, and Adam stopped thinking completely.

* * *

After Adam had reciprocated, and they had both cleaned up a little, Frank relaxed into Adam’s embrace and combed his fingers through Adam’s hair. “Do you have any plans for Christmas?” he asked then.

“Not really,” Adam replied. “I used to visit my parents on Christmas Day, but after…” He shook his head when Frank leaned back, a worried look on his face. “First time I visited them after my augmentation, my mother burst into tears and my father didn’t know any more how to talk to me. The last two years I just called them and I think it’s better for all of us.” He ran a finger down Frank’s cheek. “You?”

Frank shook his head. “We may be on speaking terms again, but more than a call to say Happy Christmas is…” He shrugged. “If you know what I mean?”

“I do,” Adam replied and buried his fingers into Frank’s hair. “So we could just spend Christmas at my place, if you want, or here.” But then he looked at the door, and back at his face. “Probably here, since you have a room mate who can’t make his own dinner.”

“If you don’t mind sharing what little space there is,” Frank replied and leaned closer. “You place is bigger.”

“It’s cavernous and still full of cardboard boxes,” Adam replied, because the truth was, he had never liked that place, and it had never felt like home. “I think I prefer being cosy with my two favourite boys.” Then he pulled Frank’s face a little closer and lowered his eyelids.

“Your two favourite boys?” Frank echoed with a raised eyebrow.

Adam nodded with a hum. “And I could definitely use more practice.”

“With what?” Frank was close enough Adam could feel Frank’s breath on his lips.

“Handling your snake,” Adam replied with a smirk.

Frank huffed out a surprised chuckle, but then he shook his head with a smile that made Adam’s heart stutter. Moments later they closed the distance between them, and Adam slowly forgot about anything else but the man in his arms.

* * *

When Adam jerked away the room was still dark. He had no idea what was going on, because he hadn’t heard anything and his HUD didn’t give him any clues either. But then he realised that what had woken him up was Frank. He was no longer snuggled up against Adam’s side but curled up into fetal position, and he was shaking.

“Frank?” Adam reached out and touched one of Frank’s shoulders. His skin was ice-cold. “Frank?”

Frank shot upright with a small yelp. His eyes were wide open, but whatever they looked at, it wasn’t Adam. Frank was breathing hard and fast, eyes unnaturally wide, his teeth bared, his hands curled.

“Frank!” Adam reached out and closed his hands around Frank’s shoulders. “Snap out of it, please!”

Frank gasped and swallowed, and his eyes slowly came to rest on Adam’s face. They focused, and Adam felt relief wash over him, because now Frank was actually looking at him.

“Adam?”

God, how he hated that voice. It was the voice of the terrified and abused man he had carried out of that laid-in office building in Toronto. Adam had hoped never to hear that voice again.

“I’m here,” he said, and settled onto his knees so he could move a little closer. “Whatever just happened, it was only a dream. A memory. A nightmare. But it’s over now.”

“You’re okay…” It was a thin, tortured whisper. “You’re okay…”

“I am,” Adam said, with more strength than he felt. “Come here.”

“You’re okay,” Frank said again, and his head fell forward, his hair sliding around his face like a curtain. His shoulders started to tremble. “You’re okay…”

“I am,” Adam said firmly and moved closer. He closed his arms around Frank and pulled him against his chest, and buried his fingers into Frank’s hair. “It was only a nightmare.”

“It was,” Frank whispered into the skin of Adam’s shoulder. “It was Toronto, and it was New Orleans… You came for me, but Jonas killed you.” His voice was trembling, and Adam could feel traces of wetness on his skin. “That god-damn fucking remote! He used it to deactivate you, and he was laughing, and I could hear you scream and beg for mercy and he was laughing! And I could do nothing!”

“Frank…”

“He fucking dismembered you with that thing and I could only watch!”

Adam tried to think of something to say, but before he could even sort his thoughts Frank had torn himself out of his embrace. But whatever Adam would have expected Frank to do now wasn’t this: it wasn’t Frank grabbing him by the shoulders to pull him into a bruising kiss.

Adam had no idea how to deal with that kind of onslaught, so he just let Frank push him onto his back. Frank was kissing him with the air of someone who is drowning and in dire need of air, like someone who stands at the precipice of an abyss and is only one breath away from falling. Adam closed his arms around him and opened his lips into the kiss, and let his fingers run up and down Frank’s back.

With Frank’s naked body covering Adam’s it was impossible to not be affected by those hungry kisses, and it didn’t take long before both of them were hard again. Then Frank broke the kiss and looked at Adam out of eyes what were still a little too wide. He was breathing heavily, just as Adam.

“I want you, Adam,” he whispered hoarsely. “I want you. I want you to fuck me.”

And as much as Adam wanted it, as much as he wanted to feel Frank close, to repeat the amazing, breathtaking experience from their first night, he could only shake his head.

“Not now, Frank,” he whispered and sifted his fingers through Frank’s hair. “Not like this. Not when you’re this vulnerable.”

“I need to feel you,” Frank rasped, but his eyes were no longer wide in what seemed like terror.

“Then come here,” Adam said and gave Frank’s right shoulder a gentle nudge with his left hand. “Come here.”

Frank followed the push of Adam’s hand and sank down onto the mattress next to him, and Adam immediately turned onto his side. He pulled Frank as close as possible, curled around him as much as he could, and buried his fingers into Frank’s hair as he nestled Frank’s head into the crook of his shoulder.

He somehow managed to pull the comforter over them again without letting go of Frank, and he kept his arms around him until Frank had finally stopped shaking.

“It’s okay,” Adam whispered into Frank’s hair. “I’m here, and I’m okay.”

Frank didn’t reply, but Adam could feel the tension slowly drain out of his limbs, and then his back. As he began to relax Frank snuggled even closer into Adam’s embrace, and Adam closed his arms tighter around him.

They remained like this for a long time, until Frank was finally able to let go of Adam, but he didn’t move away, just turned around with his back against Adam’s chest. Adam dropped a few kisses onto Frank’s bare shoulder, and adjusted the comforter again.

He fell asleep eventually, but he listened to Frank fall asleep first.

No, he couldn’t fight Frank’s nightmares for him, as much as he wanted to, but god, he wanted to spend every night with him from now on, so he wouldn't’ have to fight them alone any more.

* * *

Again, Frank was already up when Adam woke up, but he wasn’t sitting in relaxed and peaceful silence on his sofa when Adam left the bedroom. He was on the sofa, but he was clutching his coffee like a lifeline, curled over with his hair falling around his face. Adam sighed, and slowly crossed the room to sit down beside him.

“How long have you been awake?”

Frank shrugged. “Don’t know.” Then he looked up, with a slightly pathetic attempt of a smile on his face. “For about... three cups of coffee?”

Adam sighed again. “Frank. What’s going on?”

Frank didn’t reply at first, and put his cup down onto the table. Adam noticed it was still almost half full, but it had gone cold a while ago.

“It’s… last night.” Frank crossed his arms. “What I did. And said.”

“Frank, for god’s sake, you don’t have to be ashamed of your nightmares.”

“It’s not the dream I’m talking about,” Frank replied heavily. “It’s what I did and said after.”

“What?” Adam tried to pry Frank’s arms apart to be able to take one of his hands, and after a moment, Frank let him. “Kissing me, wanting to fuck because you had to make sure I’m alive and okay?” He gently squeezed Frank’s hand. “I can’t see anything in that to be ashamed of.”

Frank finally lifted his head to look at him. He looked so god-damn tired and drained that Adam just wanted to beat everyone into a pulp who had ever hurt this man.

“You don’t?” Frank asked miserable.

Adam shook his head and held out his other arm. After a moment’s hesitation Frank moved closer, and Adam pulled him against his chest and shoulder. Frank was still tense, and Adam let go of his hand to bury his fingers into Frank’s hair.

“It’s okay, Frank, it really is,” he muttered, keeping his voice as low and gentle as he could.

“God, Adam, I…” Frank buried his face into Adam’s shoulder. “I just… I… fuck! Fuck! I can’t even say it... why-”

“Frank.” Adam pressed a kiss onto Frank’s temple. His heart was racing, and there was no way Frank wouldn’t know that, but this wasn’t about Adam. “You don’t have to. I know.”

“You…” Frank’s voice was thin, shaky, but also threaded with a thin sliver of hope that made Adam’s heart clench.

“I do, Frank.” Adam kissed his temple again and pressed his cheek onto Frank’s crown. Because he did.

Something inside him settled at that realisation, and something, maybe the same, happened to Frank, because he finally relaxed. They remained like that, snuggled up close on the sofa, and Adam hoped that one day, Frank would be at peace enough to feel completely safe with Adam. Until then, he would think those words, and know that Frank was thinking them too.


	25. Chapter 25

A whole week of leave between Christmas and the new year had never meant a week of actual leave before, not for Frank. He had never been able to leave work behind completely, had worked on software updates and kept a constant eye on the firewall, always expecting an attack when everyone’s guard would technically be down. 

This year was different. 

This year, Frank spent Christmas and the days leading up to New Year’s Eve in a pleasant bubble out of reality and time, or so it almost felt. Adam only left Frank’s apartment once, to pick up some spare clothes and toiletries, and they did not leave the house again after stocking up on groceries (and mice). They spent their days with sleeping in, making out, watching movies, and almost ridiculous amounts of really amazing sex. 

Neither Frank nor Adam had spoken about that one terrible night again. It was just a fact of life that Frank was occasionally haunted by nightmares, and while he wasn’t surprised by the ease with which Adam had accepted it, it still felt almost surreal. Too good to be true. And when something it too good to be true I usually is, but Frank was allowing himself to hope this time. 

Frank had no idea what day it was, or what today’s date was, not until he got a text from Annie asking him about their plans for tonight. Only then did he realise it was New Year’s Eve.

“Frank?” Adam left the bedroom, toweling his hair. 

“Annie asks if we have plans tonight.” He looked up from his phone. 

“I don’t have any,” Adam replied and draped the towel around his shoulders. “But we could go to my place, and then we can watch the fireworks from the roof terrace.”

Frank sighed and looked at his phone. “I hate fireworks. Always have. They’re too loud.”

“Okay,” Adam said, after only a tiny moment’s hesitation. “Then we can stay here and maybe we can watch the fireworks on TV or something, with sound off, if you like.” 

Frank looked up again. “Just the two of us?”

“Want to invite Annie over?”

“Annie was asking if we want to come over and celebrate with them.”

“Them?” Adam walked over with his eyebrows raised. “Annie and who?”

“Malik?” Frank shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised, considering how they stared at each other during the later stages of Sarif’s party.”

Adam chuckled. “You saw that too?”

“A blind man in a tunnel would have seen that, Jensen,” Frank replied and dropped his phone onto the dining table. 

Adam looked at the phone for a moment, and back at Frank. “I mean, why not? What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Frank answered truthfully. “I’m not one for parties, but if it’s only the four of us…”

“Four friends,” Adam said, with a grin that made Frank smile, while at the same time feeling mildly suspicious. “We could make another picture, this time with the snek fren.”

“You’re ridiculous. How did she talk you into that?”

Adam shrugged and stepped closer, his hand coming to rest heavily and reassuringly on Frank’s hips. “I really wanted you to believe that we didn’t mothball you. I would have tried a lot more than just a picture with my shades down.”

Frank looked up, and got lost in Adam’s beautiful eyes. His own eyes fluttered shut as Adam leaned closer, and kissing him felt almost like coming home a second time.

* * *

“CHEESE!”

Annie raced back from where she had perched the Instax camera on the back of the sofa, and hastily squeezed herself between Faridah and Frank. Moments later the camera clicked, and spat out a picture with a soft whirring sound. 

“Yay!” Annie picked up the photograph and waved it a little, until the picture appeared. “It worked!”

“And what are you going to do with it?” Adam asked.

“We put it on the wall somewhere!” Annie grinned and looked around. “Any preferences, Adam?”

They had, after some deliberation, decided to meet at Adam’s place because it was the easiest to fit four people in. Now Adam looked around, past the cardboard boxes covered in streamers they had hastily pushed against a wall, and eventually pointed at the table under the window.

“Just put it there,” he said then. “I’ll find a place for that.”

Annie eyeballed him. 

“I promise!”

Frank didn’t suppress a grin as he watched that exchange, and took a sip of his beer. He had been unable to imagine he’d enjoy the evening this much, but here he was, surrounded by three people he could call friends. Even if one of them was his lover. Boyfriend? Where they boyfriends? Partners? 

“Earth to Francis!!”

Frank blinked and looked at Annie who was waving at him.

“Sorry, I zoned out.” Frank shrugged. “What?”

“Fireworks!” Annie grinned brightly. “Five minutes!”

“Have fun,” Frank replied because he honestly had no desire to expose himself to the stress.

“What?” Annie tilted her head. “You’re not coming? Why?”

“Too loud,” Frank replied. “I can’t stand that noise.”

Annie frowned, but then her face lit up. She raced towards her backpack and dug into several compartments until she produced a small package with a triumphant _Hah!_. She tossed Frank the package with a grin. 

A pair of earplugs wrapped in transparent plastic. Frank looked up at her. 

“Maybe?” Annie shrugged. “That way you can have the pretty without the loud. And if it’s still too loud you can go back inside.”

Three hopeful faces were looking at him, even if Adam was hiding it well enough. Not well enough for Frank, however, so he caved in with a sigh. “I’ll give it a try.”

Not much later they were all on the roof terrace of the Chiron building, wrapped in coats and scarves, and in Frank’s case, equipped with earplugs. For once the sky over Detroit was clear enough that the fireworks were visible, bright bursts and showers of sparks in all colours. And Frank had to admit he could appreciate and admire the sight if his eardrums weren’t blasted to hell.

The answer to the unspoken question about Annie and Faridah had presented itself as the fireworks began at midnight and the two started snogging, and Frank felt a grin on his face he was unable and unwilling to suppress. Then he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, and he leaned back against Adam’s strong and reassuring frame, looking up at the fireworks. 

Frank’s heart stuttered in his chest every time Adam nuzzled the back of his head, or dropped a kiss into his hair, and they watched the fireworks in silence, pressed as close to each other as possible. 

When the madness eventually subsided, Frank dared to remove his earplugs, and he turned around as he slipped them into his pocket. The light of the occasional stray leftover rocket was mirrored in Adam’s shades, but after a moment he retracted them. 

Their eyes met for a moment before Adam pulled Frank in for a kiss and Frank forgot that he was cold, and flinched only a little bit when the next rocket went off with an almighty bang. 

The bright shower of red sparks reflected in Adam’s eyes for a second. 

God, this man was so beautiful. That a man who seemed to be such a broody asshole could be so gentle and tender, such a good kisser and lover, was still overwhelming. Even more overwhelming was the fact that he was here with him, with Frank, of all people. He folded his hands at the back of Adam’s neck with a sigh. 

Adam leaned closer, but instead of kissing him, he rested their foreheads together. 

“Frank,” he whispered, and hesitated.

“Hmm?” Frank’s heart was racing, almost as if he knew what was coming now. 

After another moment’s hesitation Adam leaned back to look at him again. He swallowed hard.

“Frank, I… can I say it? Please? You don’t have to say it back, I promise I’m not gonna be upset.”

Frank’s mouth was almost too dry to swallow, his heart hammering in his chest. But he nodded.

A smile appeared on Adam’s face that made his heart race even faster. Cool synthetic fingers cradles his face as Adam took a deep breath. 

“Frank…” Adam swallowed hard. “Frank… I love you.”

Frank closed his eyes with a deep, shuddering breath. Those words… how long was it that he had heard them? How long that he had heard them, and they had been true? How long since he had said them himself? 

He knew the answer to that, of course. He knew when, and to whom. But he also wondered if it had stopped being true before that. But he didn’t want to think of that, so he looked at Adam again. 

“Adam…”

“No,” Adam whispered softly, hardly audible over the wind, and caressed Frank’s cheekbone with his finger. “If you don’t really, honestly want to say it, I don’t want to hear it.”

And just like that, something painful and constricting in Frank’s chest unraveled, something he hadn’t even been aware of. He felt his skin tingle and his eyes burn, and he wasn’t able to look at Adam so he fell against him, buried his face into the crook of Adam’s neck, and slung his arms around him. Adam closed his arms around Frank as well, and for a moment all Frank could do was breathe. 

Then Adam kissed his temple, and Frank opened his eyes again. 

“I love you,” he whispered against the skin of Adam’s neck, but by the way Adam tensed Frank knew he had heard it. And it felt so good, felt so much better than Frank would ever have been able to imagine. “So much.”

Adam tightened his hold and buried his face into Frank’s hair. 

“I know…” Frank hesitated, but the words were there, and he didn’t want to fight anymore for something that would only lead to him making himself unhappy again. “I know this is all so very new. Not even two weeks. But… whenever you’re ready, Adam, I want to… disclose our relationship.”

Now Adam leaned back, and Frank could see his eyes glisten. He opened his mouth for a reply, but could obviously not think of any, and instead pulled Frank into a kiss. It was all the answer Frank needed, and they remained like that, kissing each other stupid until Frank was freezing so hard his teeth started to rattle. 

Once they were all inside again, and Adam had switched on the TV, putting on a nice open fire instead of a movie, they warmed up again with some mulled wine that Faridah had made. 

“So,” Adam said after a moment of silence filled with the fragrance of wine and spices, and the crackling of the artificial fire on the screen. He looked back and forth between Annie and Faridah. “How long as this been going on?”

“Christmas party at SI,” Faridah replied with a grin and exchanged a smile with Annie. “Surprised me a little. Didn’t think I was her type.”

“Ditto,” Annie replied with a huge grin, and turned to Frank. “Yeeeeeh now we’re both blessed by the existence of bisexuality!” 

She held out her fist to him, and Frank indulged her with a shake of his head, and bumped his fist against hers. Faridah and Adam exchanged a small chuckle and clinked their mugs together. 

“Group hug!!” Annie yelled.

Frank as well as Faridah and Adam looked at her with either tilted heads or raised eyebrows. 

Annie looked around, and crossed her arms with a pout. “Urgh!! Okay!! Whatever!”

“I’m sure Faridah will hug you plenty if you ask real nice,” Frank said with a grin. 

At that, Faridah handed Adam her mug and did just that. The two went home not long after that, leaving Adam and Frank to enjoy each other’s company and make out on the sofa, until they were yawning more than they were kissing. 

Once they were snuggled up in bed, Adam turned onto his side to look at Frank, and sifted a few strands of Frank’s hair through his fingers. 

“Are you really sure about it?”

Frank didn’t have to ask. “I am.”

It felt strange, to be so sure of something. Slightly scary, to be in so deep. But if he didn’t go into this with arms and eyes wide open he would risk losing everything, and that scared him a lot more. 

“Besides,” he went on, and reached out to card his fingers through Adam’s hair, “not disclosing means we have to keep this a secret and I hate that thought.”

“Will probably short-fuse some people’s brain.” Adam said with a smile. “Pritchard in love is bad enough, Pritchard in love with Jensen?”

“That doesn’t sound like a me-problem,” Frank replied and shuffled closer so their foreheads touched. “I had to discover that keeping this a secret is harder than I thought. And that I don’t want it.”

“And I guess we can manage to be somewhat discreet about it,” Adam said and closed his eyes when Frank scratched his fingers across Adam’s head. “Hopefully.”

Frank snorted softly and increased the pressure of his fingers against Adam’s scalp. He was sure Adam would have purred if he could. “Don’t worry, I did not plan to ravish you on my desk in the Tech Lab.”

Adam opened his eyes again. 

“I mean I was entertaining the thought,” Frank went on with a smirk, “but it’s probably a bad idea.” 

Adam lifted one eyebrow. 

“But then, we do pull the odd night shift together every now and then.”

“Frank, you’ll be the death of me if you keep that up.”

“Can’t risk that,” Frank replied and closed his hand around the back of Adam’s head to pull him into a kiss.

* * *

Frank and Adam went to HR first thing on their first day to work. And yes, the people there gave them some very confused and interested looks, but Frank could force himself not to care. It wasn’t their business, and he didn’t care how strange they found the fact that Pritchard was capable of smiling. Or being in love, for that matter.

Since they literally could not keep their hands off each other yet they had decided to sleep separately Sunday to Thursday to avoid sleep deprivation. It did make keeping their hands off each other at work a little harder, but it wasn’t as hard as Frank had thought. They were out in the open now after all, and the occasional touch or smile was no reason for reproach. 

Needless to say that their only plans for their weekends involved not leaving the house.

Frank had spent most of the first two days at work planning and researching. On the third day he asked for a meeting with Sarif, who greeted Frank with a smile he hadn’t seen yet on his boss’ face, and that immediately made him suspicious. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Frank!” Sarif got up and walked around the desk. “It shouldn’t surprise you, that I liked the notification I got from HR yesterday.”

“I guess you would,” Frank replied and felt his shoulders relax again. “And although this is about me and Jen…” Frank broke off and shook his head with a grin. “It’s about me and Adam, but not like that.”

“I’m all ears.”

“See, I don’t know if you read the report on Adam and New Orleans?”

“I did,” Sarif replied, his smile dimming. “It was a close shave, as far as I understand.”

“It was,” Frank replied, and tried not to think too hard about how close exactly. “And that led to us talking about the telecommand protocol.”

Sarif stared at him for a moment. “I hope you talked him out of that.”

“See, here’s the thing,” Frank went on. “I know the software was thought of as an emergency measure for him being out of control, not his environment. But if I had had access to his augments, then it would not have been such a close shave, not by a long shot. And it was him who brought that up, not me.”

“And he knows what that means, does he?”

Frank nodded. “We had a conversation about it. And I also told him that I will make a deep investigation about the security measures of that software. Which I now have.”

“And?” Sarif crossed his arms, but he didn’t look like he was about to oppose. 

“From a programming point of view, it’s fine. I do have a plan for additional security measures, however, but I need your okay for that, not only to use the telecommand software and the cable.”

“And that is?”

“I need a customised MHD-995 with a jack.”

Sarif let his arms sink down again slowly. “I think I need a few more details.”

Frank nodded and took a deep breath. “It will allow me to access the software directly, by using the protocols of the camera and turret domination, without having the delay of needing to type commands. Plus, I can use it as an additional layer of safety.”

“Makes sense,” Sarif replied after a moment. “I’ll contact Epstein, and you go down there and figure out the details with him.” 

Frank nodded and left again, and tried not to think about how relieved he was that Sarif had not asked about any details regarding the additional layers of safety Frank was planning.

* * *

After working on customising the hacking module Frank was now ready for the surgery, and he felt as much apprehension about it as he felt relief that he would finally get his implants back.

Despite that, he stared at himself in the mirror on the eve of the appointment, and was gritting his teeth so hard it hurt. After all that time the hair covering the scar of the last surgery was almost two inches long now, and Frank hated what he had to do now. He was gripping Adam’s clippers so hard his knuckled were white.

“Frank,” Adam asked cautiously. “Are you sure about this? They can do that once you’re under.”

“I am,” Frank replied, staring at his mirror image. “I just… I just feel like I need to be in control of this situation, somehow, even only a bit.” He took a deep breath. “If that makes sense?”

“It does,” Adam said, and combed some of Frank’s hair over his head with his fingers. “And you don’t have to lose all of it.”

“No,” Frank said with a sigh. “I still hate it.”

“Best get it over with, then. Want me to hold that out of the way?”

“If you would,” Frank replied in a voice so weak he hated it. 

It took him far longer than he would have liked to bring the clippers up to his head after he had switched them on, but as much as he hated it, he was relieved when it was finally over. He had followed the line of short hair, but added a bit more to be on the safe side. His eyes were burning when he switched the clippers off and looked at all the hair in the sink. 

“I’ll clean that up,” Adam said gently and let go of the hair he had been holding out of the way. “Sit down, take a breath, and I’ll make some coffee.”

“Love you,” Frank muttered, eyes closed, and let Adam brush a few stray lose strands of hair from his shoulders. 

“Love you too,” Adam replied gently but firmly and kissed Frank’s temple, without avoiding the shaved skin. 

Frank wasn’t sure if he hated it or not, but Adam’s acceptance made it a little easier to open his eyes again. Adam smiled at him in the mirror, and while Frank’s answering smile was a weak and pathetic thing, it was real, at least. 

Frank couldn’t find rest that night and Adam stayed up with him, holding his hand, later holding Frank in his arms, and kept telling him in a low voice that everything would be okay. 

In the end Frank was so relieved when they finally wheeled him into the operating room that he would have cried, if he hadn't been already sedated.

* * *

Frank woke up to an all too familiar headache, but at least the hospital painkillers kept it on a bearable level. 

“Mr Pritchard?”

Frank managed to turn his head and looked at the nurse standing next to his bed. “Everything okay?” he asked, voice rough and scratchy. 

“Everything went fine,” the nurse replied with a smile. “We kept you under for a week, so you are bound to feel a little weak and out of sorts.”

“I’ve been through that before,” Frank replied and closed his eyes again, “so I knew what to expect.”

“It shouldn't be so bad then,” the nurse replied. “Or at least, less scary.”

“It is,” Frank said without opening his eyes. 

The nurse then left to summon Dr Marcovic, who examined Frank thoroughly and made him do a few silly faces and grimaces to check the functionality of his brain and nervous system. All was fine, and Frank was transferred to a regular ward shortly after that.

It was less than half an hour later when there was a knock on the door. A moment’s hesitation, and the door was opened very slowly. 

“Frank?”

“Adam...” Frank tried to sit up, but was too weak to do so. 

Adam was at his bed within a moment, cautiously sat down on the mattress next to him, and leaned over Frank to kiss his forehead. Then he sat down in the chair next to the bed. 

“Denton says hi,” Adam said after taking Frank’s hand. “He misses you.”

Frank managed a smile. “I miss him already. Last time I didn’t have him yet when I spent two months in the hospital after surgery, so I am very happy I have you to help me with him.”

Adam smiled. “And this time you don’t even have to spend two months in the hospital.”

“I will suffer from dizziness and disorientation and glitches in motor skill control, you know?”

“I know,” Adam replied and ran his thumb over the back of Frank's head. “But as you said, last time you were alone. This time, you’re not. So I can take care of you and Denton until you’re up to speed again.”

Frank stared at him, his eyes beginning to burn. “You… you would?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Adam brought Frank's hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “What would you do in my place?”

Frank huffed out a tired chuckle. “I… yeah.”

Adam smiled at him, and then let go of Frank's hand. He very gently shoved an arm under Frank’s shoulders, and equally carefully, helped him up into a sitting position. Since he was sitting at Frank’s right side Frank could rest his head on Adam’s shoulder without putting pressure onto the wound, and he closed his eyes with a sigh.

“It’s going to be okay,” Adam said softly.

And Frank could finally believe that.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. Thanks for taking the ride with me! Say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/lakritzwolf) or [tumblr](https://lakritzwolf.tumblr.com) if you like!

To say that Adam was nervous was an understatement, but he wasn’t afraid, either. Frank had studied the software extensively, and when Frank said a software and its application were safe, then Adam could and would rely on that.

He still didn’t like the thought of having a software installed as if he was truly no more than a machine, but he kept telling himself why he was doing this, kept reminding himself of New Orleans. It helped, a little. What did not help was the fact that Frank was late, and by now Adam could no longer stop himself from pacing. Somehow the fact that the confidential meeting rooms didn’t have windows made it even worse.

But then finally his infolink buzzed.

_“Sorry, I could not get rid of this idiot, I’m on my way now.”_ Frank’s voice was flat with anger. _“I had to deal with him personally because that prick refused to let Annie handle his problem. I also immediately filed a report, because I do not want to see that racist, misogynistic ass again in my lab.”_

“You sure you’re up to it?” Adam asked. “You sound really stressed, shouldn’t we wait until you’ve calmed down?”

_“I am calming down already, Jensen.”_ His voice did sound calmer indeed. _“I have the ability to focus, you know?”_

“Right.” Adam couldn’t suppress a small chuckle. “I also brought coffee, a whole thermos, so you can take a little break before we start.”

_“That sounds like one of the best ideas you ever had, Jensen.”_

“I know my favourite cyber-nerd’s preferences well, Pritchard.”

_“Flatterer.”_ Frank’s voice held a smile. _“Be with you in a minute.”_

Adam took the paper cups he had brought, and poured two coffees. And indeed, as soon as he put the thermos down again the door opened.

“I don’t know what that ass was thinking,” Frank said as he put a laptop onto the table. “That I’d just shrug off how he treats my assistant?” He pulled a handful of cables out of his pocket, all separately wrapped into sealed plastic bags, while Adam locked the door behind him.

“Maybe I could distract you a little,” Adam offered as he stepped closer, and settled his hands on Frank’s shoulders. “You know, help you get him out of your head.”

Frank tilted his head and rested his hands on Adam’s hips. “Not sure an elevated heart rate is going to help, Jensen, no matter what caused it.”

“You have an elevated heart rate anyway, Pritchard” Adam replied and leaned forward. “But like this, you at least have a better mood to go with it.”

Frank closed his eyes with a smile, and Adam brought their lips together and spent the next few minutes pleasantly distracting Frank from the unpleasant event in his lab. Very effectively. Frank was still smiling as Adam leaned back again, and he took a deep breath while shrugging his leather jacket off.

“Good. Now that that’s out of the way…” He opened the laptop. “Sit down, this will take a while.”

“Will it hurt, doctor?” Adam sat down with a crooked grin.

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t know.” Frank gave him a worried look. “But it won’t be pleasant.”

“Just get it over with,” Adam replied. “No use in dragging this longer than it has to.”

“Right.” Frank started the laptop and plugged in a few cables. “In case you wonder, yes, you do have a port for these at the back of your head, but only this specific jack will fit into there. That’s why Sarif had to be in on this. Only he can give me the authorisation to use it. And yes, only one exists.”

“But someone with the right know-how and access to the right equipment could reproduce it?” Adam shifted in his seat.

“Only theoretically. There are specifications involved here that are very difficult to reproduce.” Frank took one of the cables connected to the laptop and looked at it. Then he took a deep breath, and brought it to the side of his own head.

“Frank?” Adam leaned forward. “What the hell?”

Frank ignored him, and only now did Adam realised that one of the skin bolts around his surgical scar was larger than the others. It looked like a port, or a jack. Once his hair was grown out again it would be invisible like the rest of the bolts, but right now it was glaringly obvious, with the hair barely more than stubble. Adam wondered why he hadn’t noticed it yet, but he had to admit he had avoided looking at the scar as best as he could.

Now Frank took another deep breath, and with the help of the fingers of his left hand, tried to navigate the cable to the jack. “This needs a bit of practice,” he muttered apologetically.

“Can I help?” Adam got up again. “Also I’d really like to know what you’re doing here.”

Frank handed him the cable and pointed at the jack. “I’ll explain later. I’m not a fan of dragging things out either, so if you would just insert tab A into slot B, that’d be nice.”

“I’d rather stick something else into a different hole,” Adam said, aiming to distract Frank with a weak, stupid joke, because he didn’t need a CASIE to see how apprehensive Frank was.

With good reason, as it turned out. Frank hissed through gritted teeth as Adam pushed the jack in, and Adam quickly took Frank by the shoulders as he was about to double over.

“Fuck!” Eyes pinched shut, Frank leaned against Adam’s shoulder. “I thought this would get easier with time.”

“Frank, what the fuck.” Adam narrowed his eyes, and followed the cable from where it was plugged into Frank’s head to the laptop.

“Your turn,” Frank said then, and his voice was calm again, the almost tortured look in his eyes gone. “It’s just the connection that’s a bother, I can’t feel anything now.”

“Good.” Adam sat down again and eyed the other cable that Frank picked up. “I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

“I’m touched,” Frank said, voice gentle. “But some things just can’t be helped.”

Now Frank stepped to Adam’s side and ran his fingers through his hair, down the back of his head, probing the for port he knew was there.

“I’m plugging it in now.”

It felt like an ice-cold needle shoved directly into his brain, which wasn’t that far away from the truth, and Adam felt as if his eyes were malfunctioning because his vision whited out. He couldn’t suppress a groan.

“Adam?” A gentle hand rested on his head.

Adam shook his head. “Vision blacked out for a moment.”

“That must be a psychological effect, since technically your eyes weren’t affected.” Gentle fingers carded through his hair. “That doesn’t make it any less unpleasant, of course.”

“Right.” Adam huffed out a hard breath. “Now we’re jacked up. Both.”

Frank rested his hand on Adam’s shoulder for a moment before he turned around to the laptop again. “I’m activating the software,” he said, and as he typed, a ridiculously long string of asterisks appeared in the password prompt field. “Starting the upload now. You will lose control of the augmentations in question for a few seconds as the software installs.” He sighed. “Since the original plan was to install this after tranquillising you, I can’t imagine this will be easy.”

“Yeah, doing this at LIMB wasn’t really an option.”

“Not really.” Frank kept looking at the screen. “Let’s hope for the best.”

Moments later Adam couldn’t feel his legs any more, but they came back less than ten seconds later. Next were the arms. Unable to suppress a small gasp when his eyes blacked out he closed his fingers around the armrest of the chair. He could hear Frank type again.

Then he felt two hands on his shoulders, one of Frank’s arms around his back. “Your heart will stutter and your lungs as well,” Frank said softly. “But only for a moment. I’m here, Adam, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Even knowing what to expect Adam felt a spike of panic in his chest as he could feel his heart stop, and even more so when his lungs stopped after the heart started beating again. He coughed and gasped for air as soon as he could breathe again.

“It’s okay,” Frank said gently. “It’s over. It was only a few seconds without breath, even if it felt longer. But the worst is over now.”

“Longest seconds of my life,” Adam muttered with a weak attempt at a smile.

“No doubt,” Frank replied and gently combed his fingers through Adam’s hair before stepping away again. Then he rested his hands on the sides of Adam’s head. “You will black out for a few seconds while the software installs in the cranial implants.”

Before Adam could say anything, Frank took his hands away again. Adam was left with a moment of disorientation, but then everything seemed normal, and exactly like before. He looked at his hand and curled his fingers.

“Did it work?”

“Only one way to find out,” Frank said and turned towards the laptop again, where another password prompt window was open. Again, Frank entered a password that was ridiculously long, and then he took a deep breath. “It’s active and running now.”

“So now you can manipulate my augmentations.”

Frank turned around and met his eyes. “Yes. Just as we discussed.”

“Good. Give it a try.”

Frank nodded and typed a few command lines. He hit enter, and Adam’s left arm fell down, limp and dead.

“Huh,” Adam said and stared at his arm. “Looks like it’s working.”

“Bringing it back online now.”

“Yeah, worked as well.” Adam curled his fingers. “And now, would you mind explaining to me why you need to be jacked up as well?”

“I will, but let me un-jack us first, because I am sure you’ll be as happy about getting that a cable out of your brain as I will.”

“Go ahead.”

Removing the jack wasn’t half as unpleasant as putting it in, but it still hurt Adam to see Frank wince like that. He used the time Frank took to pack away his cables to pour more coffee, and sat down again.

Once Frank had sat down too, he met Adam’s eyes and took a deep breath.

“The reason is, simply put, safety.” Frank took a sip of his coffee. “I managed to figure out a security protocol that’s as close to unbreakable as is humanly possible.”

Adam lifted one eyebrow.

“I created a software,” Frank said simply, like someone else might have said they made some bagels. “Only a few lines of code, but they’re installed on my customised hacking implant. I worked on the modifications for that implant for a while, that’s why I needed more time prior to the surgery. And the point of this whole ordeal is that this software,” he patted the laptop, “will not run without being connected to the security protocol in my cranial implant.”

“You…” Adam swallowed. “You… connected yourself to that software?”

Frank shrugged. “Whoever wants to access this software has to, one, have access to this specific cranial implant, coded to my biochip.” He tapped the side of his head, next to the scar. “And two, they need three different twenty-digit passwords made of letters, numerals, and special characters. One to open, one during the initialisation process, and one before accessing it. So stealing the laptop with the software won’t be of any use without the passwords, and without this cranial implant.”

Adam leaned back and crossed his arms. “Not to sound ungrateful, or… you know, call you weak. But what if someone tries something like Jonas did?”

“Kidnap and torture me, to try and force me?” Frank gave him a smile, but it was not one Adam enjoyed looking at. “The last fail-safe is not one I wanted to discuss with you before this thing was done, and Sarif doesn’t know about it either. I’d rather you don’t know at all.”

“Because I would have said no?” Adam growled. “I thought this was about consent!”

Frank took a deep breath. “We both agreed this was necessary. And I ensured the safety of this software, and of you. And Adam.” Frank leaned forward, looking right into Adam’s eyes. “I’d rather die than let Tai Yong or any would-be Tyrant have that kind of power over you.”

“What did you do,” Adam pressed out through gritted teeth.

“The password routing is coupled to a security protocol that creates a violent energy feedback loop in the implant if a wrong password is entered. Simply put, if I enter-”

“If you enter the wrong password you’ll fry your brain?” Adam almost yelled. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

“See, that’s why I didn’t discuss this with you beforehand.” Frank crossed his arms. “I said I’ll take every step necessary to protect you and this software. And I have. You didn’t think I’d leave anything in this process to chance, did you?”

“Frank…” Adam dragged his hands down his face. This was too much. Too much. It was a mistake. “I can’t do that. You have to uninstall.”

“And listen to you dying via the infolink like I almost had to, when you were in New Orleans?” Frank snapped back. “I don’t think so!”

“I don’t want you to die because of this!” Adam jumped out of his chair and dug his fingers into his hair.

“And if I die to make sure that no one can ever access that software?” Frank got up as well, and he gritted his teeth for a moment. “Isn’t that better than you being controlled like a puppet to kill me yourself, while you’re conscious and completely helpless to prevent it? I could not remove the mo-cap function from the source code, and if someone were to hook up a VR suit to that software you’re not more than an avatar, but not in cyberspace! I guess I don’t have to remind you of Milwaukee Junction? Of the poor bastard who was forced to shoot himself?”

“I…” Adam felt a cold shudder creep down his spine.

“Adam.” Frank’s voice was gentle again, and he reached out to take one of Adam’s hands. Adam let him, but he couldn’t meet Frank’s eyes. “Adam, look at me, please?”

Adam swallowed, and he had to force himself to look up.

“Adam,” Frank said softly. “You’re not the only person in this world willing to die to protect the ones they love.”

“Frank…” Adam felt his throat tighten. It was an unbearable thought. “And what would I be supposed to do without you?”

Frank swallowed and shook his head with a one-sided shrug. “I don’t know,” he said in a low, husky voice. “What would I be supposed to do, after listening to you die in some sub-basement somewhere on the other side of the world?”

Unable to answer, but also unable to look away, Adam could only shake his head.

“Adam, despite everything you are, you’re neither invincible nor invulnerable.” Frank took a small step closer. “And despite that… you would put yourself between me and anything that might threaten me.” He took another step. “Wouldn’t you?”

“I would,” Adam replied hoarsely.

“You would protect me with your very last breath,” Frank said and rested his hands against Adam’s chest. “You would die to keep me safe from harm.”

“I would,” Adam said again. “But Frank, what-”

“And don’t you think I have the same right?” Frank curled his fingers, gripping Adam’s sweater. “Don’t you think I want the same right? Or do you think you’re not worth it? Nor worth someone else’s life?”

“I…” Adam felt it hard to breathe, difficult to think. And Frank was looking at him, staring at him, his eyes burning like sapphires in the sun.

“You are everything to me, Adam!” Frank’s face was only inches away from Adam’s now. “And I know I’m just a scrawny IT nerd, and I’m a coward, and I do not want to die, but I swear I’d rather fry my brain myself than stand by and watch someone turn you into a killer machine or a monster!”

Adam hadn’t been aware that he had stepped back but he suddenly had the wall at his back. But before he could try and think of anything to say, or do, Frank closed the distance between them with a bruising kiss.

Adam didn’t resist; he closed his arms around Frank and opened his lips into the kiss. Frank had only kissed like this when he had been battling with feelings that threatened to overwhelm him, haunted by nightmares, living or awake. And so he relaxed and softened to let Frank claim what he needed right now.

It wasn’t as if Adam was suffering though; when Frank finally broke the kiss they were both breathing heavily, and they both were also desperately hard. Frank’s face was no longer made only of hard lines, and Adam reached up and brushed a finger down Frank’s cheek. Frank’s eyes fluttered shut and he buried his face into Adam’s shoulder with a sigh.

The thought of Frank dying like that to protect him made his skin crawl, but sadly, Frank had a very good point about using the software anyway. And the chance of anything like that happening was small. The only other person who knew about this was Sarif, and he wouldn’t shout it from the rooftops.

Adam took a deep breath. “I think we have to drink another coffee now,” he muttered with a weak smile. “We can’t leave this surveillance-free, windowless, locked room together looking like this.”

“Looking like what,” Frank muttered into the collar of Adam’s coat.

“Thoroughly kissed and pitching a tent.”

Frank emitted a soft snort and pushed himself away. “I guess you’re right.”

“And… Frank…” Adam sighed and brushed his other finger across Frank’s temple, over the stubble of the recently shaved hair, and came to rest at the port below the scar. “You’re no coward. After what you’ve been through, putting a device into your brain that will kill you violently and very painfully… it’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

Frank huffed with a crooked grin and leaned against Adam’s chest. His breath grazed Adam’s lips as he spoke. “I think your over-protectiveness and lack of self-preservation is rubbing off on me, Jensen.”

“I guess that can only mean one thing, Pritchard.” Adam rested his forearms on Frank’s shoulders and folded his hands behind Frank’s head.

Frank lifted both eyebrows.

“We have to keep each other safe,” Adam muttered as he leaned close.

Frank stared at him with parted lips, a heartbeat or two, and then a smile appeared on his face that Adam had never seen before. It was soft, and tender, while at the same time incredulous and hesitant, as if too shy to admit it was there. It was beautiful however, and Adam did the only thing he could think of: he kissed Frank again to feel that smile, to taste it, and to tell Frank what he could not really put into words. Because sometimes, even an ‘I love you’ is not enough.

But to judge by the way Frank leaned into the embrace, the way he kissed Adam back, Frank seemed to understand him just fine.


End file.
